The Unholy Trinity Hangover
by Race122VE
Summary: ***Completed 12/8/10*** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count:** TBD (currently 20k, still more to come)  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.  
**Author's Note:** _HAPPY BIRTHDAY LYNNE!_ This is a present for Lynne (lynnearlington on LJ, author of "Bad Things Happen For A Reason, my absolute favorite Brittana story) who is one of my all time favorite writers ever. It has been slightly beta'd (by Mal) but it's a fic based on The Hangover so…it's not to be taken too seriously.

**Prologue**

Santana's standing out in the middle of the desert, kicking at the stones in the sand as the ringing from her phone keeps sounding in her ear. Each ring that goes unanswered is more nerve racking than the previous and she worries her lip with her teeth before remembering that it got busted up, cursing as she brings her free hand up to press against the small, open wound.

This was a phone call she did not want to make, that she tried to avoid for a whole fucking day, but now there was no way getting around it. She was terrified, nervous, and pissed. They wasted a whole day getting caught up in some of the most fucked up shit she's ever experienced (well, that she has consciously experienced) trying to avoid the inevitable. _This_.

They should have done this yesterday, but then she wouldn't have known what to say. That's mostly because yesterday she didn't _remember_ what had happened. Now that she did, as well as she could be expected to anyway, she thinks she liked it better before.

For a moment, she thinks she's going to get away without actually having to talk to someone right away.

But then Kurt picks up. "Hello," he greets cautiously.

A part of her wants to just get it over with, but she procrastinates a little bit longer. "Kurt," she replies, wincing at the rough tone in her voice. "It's Santana."

On the other end, she can hear Kurt rise to his feet and hiss menacingly into the phone, "Santana…where the hell are you guys? I am _freaking_ out."

She sighs heavily, running her hand through her hair and looking down on the ground. "Yeah…listen…uh…" she holds the phone away from her ear slightly as she stammers on, not able to bring herself to actually say what she's dreading to say.

But she has to, and she decides to rip off the band aid.

"We fucked up."

"What are you talking about?"

"The bachelorette party…the whole night…it's…things got out of control and, uh…" she begins, not really knowing where to start but knowing the point behind it all. Santana throws her head back, looking up at the sky and silently praying to be smacked down because the next words out of her mouth were not going to be easy to admit.

"We lost Rachel."

"What?"

"We can't find Rachel," she repeats, closing her eyes and preparing for the onslaught that Kurt Hummel would no doubt throw her way.

"What are you saying Santana?" Kurt throws back, a lot less angry than she expected and more disbelieving. "The wedding is in five hours."

Santana fights the urge to snap back 'no shit' but her attitude wasn't going to help anything. Rachel was gone, she was out in the middle of fucking nowhere, with Brittany and Quinn waiting by the car, and she had no fucking idea about what to do next except admit defeat.

"Yeah," she says, shaking her head. "That's not going to happen."

**Chapter 1 - Two Days Earlier**

The day seemed to go by slower than usual, but Santana had expected as much.

They'd been planning this trip for a couple months now after finally wearing down Quinn and, mostly, Rachel fucking Berry, aka the bane of her existence.

That might be a little harsh, actually.

Santana likes Rachel, she does, but, in a way, they're very similar. Both are outspoken, stubborn, and they both firmly believe that they are right about ninety-nine percent of the time. When it came down to it, however, Rachel made Quinn happy. Happier than she had seen her friend in a long time, so she went with it and tried her best not to snap at Rachel.

Brittany was helpful in that department. She liked everyone, which included Rachel, so whenever Santana behaved Brittany would reward her.

But there wasn't enough sex in the world to hold back the 'why the fuck not' that escaped her mouth when Rachel vetoed a bachelorette party in Vegas right before the wedding.

"Santana," Rachel said back immediately after Santana had made the suggestion. "I'm not going to let you and Brittany take Quinn to _Sin City_ right before our wedding. No way."

She immediately scoffed at the way Rachel scandalizes 'Sin City.' Her fists then clenched at her side and she leaned forward in her chair, ready to argue but Brittany beats her to it. "You should come to," she suggested with a shrug.

All eyes shifted to the blonde and she went on, unaffected by the skeptical stares. "It's her wedding too," she reminded them. "Rachel deserves a bachelorette party just as much as Quinn does."

Even though she had a point, Santana hated the idea instantly.

Unfortunately, Quinn loved the idea and after a few more minutes of Brittany and Quinn talking Rachel into the idea, she gave in.

It wouldn't have been so bad if there had been more people involved, but once planning got started Quinn and Rachel insisted (although, Santana supposed Rachel was doing more of the insisting) that it be a small group, just the four of them.

Brittany convinced her to go along with things later that night, but as the weekend quickly approached, she was more and more weary of the idea of going to Vegas with Rachel.

There was no randomness behind the offer to have a bachelorette party for Quinn there, it's something the three of them, Santana, Brittany, and Quinn, had been saying they should do since they turned twenty-one.

All the plans Santana had mentally concocted were flushed down the drain, but it was fucking Vegas and she was not going to let Berry ruin her trip. Being a teacher means shit benefits and even shittier vacation time, so nothing was going to stop her from getting fucking shitty this whole weekend.

The bell rings, she's out of the class before most of her students have even collected their belongings, and heading straight for the teacher's lounge to get her things and get the fuck out of the building.

Santana pushes the front door to the school open, squinting against the sun and slipping her aviators over her eyes. And, of fucking course, one of her fucking students has something to say, "Ms. Lopez…?"

"It's the weekend, slugger," she says, unapologetically cutting the kid off. "I do not know you, you do not exist."

She doesn't even look back to see the kid's expression because she is looking at the most beautiful woman in the world sitting in the most beautiful fucking car she has ever seen. A 1969 Mercedes-Benz Cabriolet, no doubt belonging to Rachel's dads who were fucking loaded.

"Shit…nice car," she says while Brittany and Quinn giggle and Rachel holds her chin up a little higher, pleased with Santana's approval. "I'm driving."

"No chance-" Rachel starts off, but then begins to yell as Santana tosses her bag in the back with Brittany and steps on to the door and plops down next to the blonde. "Whoa! Don't step on the…God…watch the leather!"

As much fun as she has making Rachel mad, Brittany's arms slide around her waist to tug Santana closer. "Hi," she whispers before pressing their mouths together.

Santana is able to enjoy the kiss for all of five seconds before the annoying ring that is Rachel's voice, as she continues to blather on about her daddies' car, begins to force its way into her ears. "Just shut up and drive before these nerds ask me another question," Santana shoots back before getting happily distracted as Brittany kisses down her neck.

The car peels out and Santana couldn't be more thrilled to turn her head and watch as the school, aka hell, disappears into the distance while Brittany whispers dirty things in her ear.

It's not long before they're out on the highway with some beer bottles cracked open and watching as every single car zoomed by them.

"Come on, Berry," Santana whines as she throws an arm around Brittany. "Just to Barstow! _Everybody_ is passing us!"

"Absolutely not. I promised my dads that I would be the only one driving the car," Rachel replies snootily. "Besides, you're drinking."

"What are you a cop now?" Santana sneers. "Besides…I drive great when I'm drunk. Quinn can back that up."

Rachel eyes Quinn quickly before turning her attention back to the road. "Quinn?"

She lets out a deep sigh and shrugs, "It's true. Santana was always our designated drunk driver."

The disgusted sound that Rachel lets out has Quinn sliding down in her seat and setting her beer in one of the cup holders as her fiancé tightens her hold (hands placed exactly at the ten and two) on the steering wheel. "My dads love this car," she tells them. "All I ask is for a little respect-"

"Here we go," Santana cuts in. "Look…I just want to enjoy myself, OK? We've been talking about a trip to Vegas for years now and, Quinn, you might just want to reign in your dwarf a little because come Sunday you're gonna start dying a little bit. _Every_ day."

"Totally," Brittany agrees. "That's why me and Santana aren't getting married."

"Really?" Quinn turns and arches an eyebrow. "You agree with her, B?"

The blonde bobs her head up and down and Santana tightens the grip she has on her girlfriend's shoulder. "I just need to clarify this-"

"_Again_?"

Ignoring Santana, Quinn presses on (even though she damn well knows Santana's stance on marriage), "You two have been together for over ten years, practically inseparable, but the moment you get married you just start deteriorating or something?"

"It's just a piece of paper," Santana shrugs. "And you have to throw a fucking expensive party for your freeloader friends who just get all drunk and disorderly and keep you from having sex."

"You mean how you and B are going to be at our reception?" Quinn asks pointedly, eyeing her two best friends knowingly.

They both smirk and exchange glances before Rachel chimes in, "OK…can we please refrain from speaking about marriage and how awful you two think it is?"

"Well…I don't think it's awful," Brittany clarifies. "But S doesn't want to so…"

An uncomfortable silence falls over them. Well, Brittany takes a long sip of her beer and remains untouched by the awkwardness, but the way Quinn is looking at Santana suggests that while the topic seems to have tapered off, she is far from letting it drop with Santana.

Maybe she'll get lucky and her drunk alter ego will have the conversation and then she won't actually have to deal with it.

Rachel, ever the midget, tries to turn and check her blind spot, but her need to drive like a grandmother on the brink of death hinders her ability to get a good look. "Brittany? Am I clear?"

Santana's busy fidgeting with her beer bottle and doesn't notice if Brittany properly checks, but the blonde gives Rachel the all clear and then suddenly they're screaming their heads off and nearly knocking an eighteen wheeler off the highway.

Rachel keeps screaming 'Oh my God' over the sound of the truck's horn while Quinn is clutching her fiancé's shoulder and glaring back at the cackling women in the back seat. "That was awesome!" Brittany shouts.

"That was not awesome!" Rachel fires back.

Quinn joins in as well, "That was _insane_!"

It doesn't stop Brittany. "You should have seen your faces!"

"It was fucking funny," Santana laughs, happy to be past the serious talk.

For now, at least.

**xxxxx**

Santana is standing in line at the rest stop, gazing out the window as Brittany shouts at an old man to keep walking and not touch Rachel's dads' car.

The book that she had her nose pressed into is now grasped in her one hand and dangling at her side as she steps forward, daring the old man to come closer. It's Rachel's fault, really. She asked someone to stay behind with the car while she went and prepaid for gas. Brittany asked, "Like, protect it?" To which Rachel agreed and now she was chasing a way a grandpa or something.

The corners of her mouth tug upwards as she watches her girlfriend slowly step back to lean against the car again and continue reading her book while still peeking an eye towards the old guy every so often.  
Santana's so completely lost in just _watching_ Brittany that she doesn't notice Rachel slide up to stand next to her.

"Brittany means well right?" Rachel asks, nodding towards her over protectiveness of the car.

"You told her to take care of it," Santana replies. "She's fine. It's actually kinda funny and…cute."

Rachel merely nods as Quinn wedges herself between them, handing Rachel the biggest bottle of water the store carries. It's, like, comically big and Santana's about to make some kind of remark (she's searching her head for the best, snarkiest comment) but she gets side tracked when she notices Quinn staring at a woman outside with a baby.

Quinn's always been the maternal type. Santana would never admit this to anyone, but she's always been the leader in their trio. It just made sense. Santana was the badass that didn't give a shit about anyone outside of her small group, and Brittany wasn't the brightest crayon in the box and needed some corralling, so Quinn kept them in check.

That was her job.

But she always managed to do it with a soft hand and a stern voice that was more parental than Santana's parents have ever been or would ever be. It's just the way that Quinn's always been since she transferred to their high school when she turned seventeen and it was something that she and Brittany kind of needed in a way.

Before she can really think anything of it, the cashier is ringing them up and both Santana and Rachel turn expectantly at Quinn. She gives them a good eye roll before fishing out her credit card and handing it over.

After bagging up their things and filling up the car they're back on the road. Santana's sipping her third beer as she watches the desert pass as the wind whips through her hair. Quinn and Rachel are being disgusting and whispering to each other, smiling, holding hands, and testing Santana's gag reflex. Brittany still has her nose in a book that, Santana has learned, is teaching her how to count cards.

"It says here we should work in teams," Brittany pipes up all of a sudden. "S, you should be my spotter."

"You know, Brittany," Rachel begins. "I don't think you should be doing so much gambling tonight. At all, really."

"Gambling?" Brittany echoes, brow furrowed in confusion. "I didn't say anything about gambling. I mean…it's not really gambling if you know you're going to win. Counting cards is a fool proof system."

Quinn adds, "It's also illegal."

"It's not illegal, it's frowned upon," she fries back, opening the book to her saved page. "You know, like…sex on an airplane."

There's a moment where Quinn is shaking her head and smiling slightly while Rachel just looks completely mortified. Whenever Santana or Brittany, usually by extension, can make Rachel feel uncomfortable Santana calls that a win.

Her hand finds itself on Brittany's thigh and she slowly starts moving it up when Quinn unknowingly interrupts. "That's illegal, too you know."

"Well…yeah," Brittany agrees, putting her hand over Santana's and tangling their fingers together. "When you're not, like, _in_ the bathroom."

"_Regardless_," Rachel says sharply, the car jolting slightly after Brittany's slip up. "You have to be extremely smart to count cards properly and-"

"Watch it, Berry," Santana snaps, squeezing Brittany's hand.

But the blonde seemed unfazed and smiled at Santana. "What about _Rain Man_?" she points out proudly, turning to address Quinn and Rachel. "He bankrupted a casino and he was a re-tard."

"What?"

Santana sends Rachel another glare through the rear view mirror, but Brittany just repeats, firmer, "He was a re-tard."

Santana slides closer to Brittany, yanking the book from her hands and throwing it to the ground. "It's OK, Britt," she whispers. "I'm sure we'll fit in some gambling, but we're going to have other things to do."

Just like every other time Santana lowers her voice to a husky whisper and ghosts the words into Brittany's ear, it takes her a moment to get what Santana _actually_ means if it's not spelled out. Once she does though, she turns her head and slants her lips over Santana's. "Other things, huh?"

Santana's just about to lean forward when Rachel coughs loudly and addresses them through the mirror, "Could you two keep it in your pants until you're alone? We're heading into the city right now."

Sure enough the bright lights appeared before them, shining (even though it was still light out) and calling out to them. Brittany gave Santana a quick kiss on the lips before leaning forward in between Quinn and Rachel, squealing and clapping with excitement. Santana scoots forward on Quinn's side, giving her shoulder a squeeze and smiling at the promise the night held. **  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:**The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Disclaimer:**All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter 2**

They pull up to Caesar's and all eyes are immediately drawn to their dope car and, obviously, herself and her hot friends (Rachel counts, she supposes). They pull up to the valet, grab their bags, and head inside.

As they make their way in, Santana notices a few guys giving Brittany a once over. Santana throws an arm over Brittany's shoulder and smirks back at them. It really only fuels the guys' fire, but she just thinks about jumping her girlfriend the moment they get into their room. Meanwhile Quinn takes Rachel's hand and leads them to the front desk.

The girl there greets them and Quinn replies, "Hi, we have a reservation under Dr. Fabray."

"Dr. Fabray?" Santana scoffs as the girl begins clacking on her keyboard. "Quinn, you're a fucking _dentist_. Let's not get fancy."

Quinn glares back, but remains calm when she retorts, "It's not fancy if it's true."

The clerk smiles at Quinn, causing Rachel to grip Quinn's bicep protectively as Santana leans forward on the desk. "Don't get too excited," she warns the girl. "First off she's getting married to that thing clinging to her arm. Secondly, if someone has a heart attack, you should still call 911."

The girl gives Santana a tight smile and a nod as she looks back at her screen. "OK, I have you in a two bedroom suite. Is that OK?"

Quinn and Rachel voice their approval, but Santana has something else in mind. "Actually…I was wondering if you have any villas available."

The girl goes to check and Quinn rounds on Santana. "S, we're not even going to be in the room-"

"Look I don't want some small, ordinary, piece of shit room, OK. We're in _Vegas_ for Christ's sake," Santana turns back to the clerk. "How much is the villa for one night?"

"We do have one villa available and it's $4200 per night."

Brittany pipes up for the first time during the whole exchange, "Is it awesome?"

"It's pretty awesome," she tells them with a sure nod.

"Excellent," Santana says, looking pointedly at Quinn. "We'll take it. Give her your card."

"I _cannot_ put that on my card-"

Rachel jumps in, squeezing Quinn's arm. "Look...it could be fun and we can split it-"

"No," Santana cuts in. "I may not be your biggest fan, but this is something Brittany and I are taking care of. My credit card limit just isn't that high."

"That's sweet, Santana, even if you are being a bitch," Quinn replied tightly. "But you don't get it. My dad still checks the statements and he doesn't know about the whole Vegas thing. He thinks we're up in Napa right now."

"Oh, well we just need a card to file," the clerk offers. "We're not going to charge anything till you check out so you can figure out the payment then."

"Perfect!" Santana exclaims, clapping Quinn on the shoulder. "Thank you! See? We'll deal with it tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Quinn hands over her card.

"Can I ask you something?" Brittany's looking at the clerk who nods at her as she puts Quinn's information into the system. "I know you probably get this a lot…but…this isn't the real Caesar's Palace…is it?"

The clerk, obviously not used to the way Brittany's mind works, looks at the rest of them, notices how unsurprised they all are by Brittany's question, and smiles tightly. "Um…no."

Brittany just nods and Santana pulls the blonde closer as she says, "I didn't think so."

**xxxxx**

It's straight out of a fucking rap video when they push the key card in throw open the double doors. In fact, it's better. The room is overlooking the strip, it's huge, and fucking decked out.

"You're fucking welcome bitches," Santana says as she walks forward, drops her bag on the floor, and flops backwards on to the softest couch she's ever laid on. Brittany laughs and pounces on top of her then latches her mouth on to Santana's.

"This place is enorm-" Rachel begins, marveled by the room, but stops when she turns back to Santana and Brittany. "There are probably four separate rooms in our suite, you two. Could you please find one before you start…_that_."

Santana gives Rachel the finger as she continues to kiss Brittany for a few seconds more before leaning back and looking around the room. Quinn's jaw remains open in amazement as she stands by Rachel and turns her attention to Santana. "Thanks for the room, guys. _Really_."

"Yeah, yeah," Santana waves Quinn off as Brittany pushes herself up from the couch, holding a hand out to Santana and tugging her up as well. "I don't want to get too gushy over this, OK. We're in Vegas and I say we go to our rooms and we get ready to go in a half hour."

As she's talking Brittany's hand finds its way to Santana's back and she traces down her spine before her fingers skim the hem of Santana's shirt and work their way under to scratch her nails along the small of her back. "_One_ hour," she coughs. "Let's, uh…make it one."

Ignoring Quinn's eye roll and Rachel's obvious disdain for the PDA, Santana grabs her and Brittany's bags and goes to find a room. They're all pretty much the same so she finds one, chucks their shit in, turns and grabs Brittany by the waist, and practically throws her on the huge bed, kicking the door shut behind her.

"This suite is hot," Brittany says as Santana climbs on top of her.

"_You're_ hot," she fires back, leaning down and licking Brittany's neck as her hand slides up the blonde's shirt, bringing the material up with it. Brittany moans, reaching her own hands down to grip at the fabric of Santana's shirt before yanking it up and over her head.

Santana sits up, straddling Brittany's waist, and rids the blonde of her shirt before reaching around to unclasp her bra. Brittany, thankfully, isn't wearing one so when Santana leans back in and kisses Brittany deeply the heat from skin on skin contact settles low between her thighs and she feels her arousal soaking through her panties.

Without breaking the kiss, Santana shifts her legs so she's now straddling Brittany's thigh and grinds down as she pushes her own thigh forward into Brittany. It rips another moan form her as she breaks away from the kiss and buries her face into Santana's shoulder, nipping at her collarbone.

Even though they have some time, Santana makes room for her hand to slide between their bodies and pop open the clasp of Brittany's pants. It's been a long day, too, full of unwanted stress and sitting next to her girlfriend for a long car ride while she kept rubbing her palm up Santana's thigh and she really can't be bothered with too much foreplay. Especially when her finger slides easily over Brittany's slick heat.

Brittany turns her head, kissing along Santana's neck up to her ear where she takes it between her teeth before hissing, "Santana…"

It's basically the blonde's way of saying 'cut the shit and fuck me already.'

So she does.

When she slides in two fingers Brittany arches up into her body and moves to kiss Santana, holding her face close with her palms. Santana thrusts slowly, developing a rhythm before bringing her thigh up further and helping to dig her fingers deeper into Brittany as she rides her thigh to try to alleviate her own tension.

There's not nearly enough friction though between her pants and Brittany's and she's starting to regret not kicking them off before, but she feels Brittany starting to clench around her fingers and when she breaks away to kiss and suck down her neck, Brittany's panting and running her nails along Santana's scalp.

Her thumb moves up to circle Brittany's clit and, not long after, she's coming undone under Santana and calling out her name loudly as she tugs at black strands of hair. Santana continues to thrust slowly as Brittany rides it out, but is completely blindsided when Brittany's hands abandon her hair and move quickly down to unbutton her jeans and slide in.

Santana lifts her hips, her body working on autopilot now and seeking the fastest way to get off. Brittany enters her with one hand while the other grasps her hip firmly and urges her to continue to grind down. Santana pulls out of Brittany, bringing her hand down to the mattress to steady herself as she rides Brittany's fingers until she comes only seconds later. She collapses on top Brittany, her nose nudging the blonde's jaw as they both catch their breaths and cling tightly to one another.

"I really needed that after today," she mumbles into Brittany's neck, smiling when Brittany shivers at the feeling of her breath tickling her sensitive skin.

"Mhmm," Brittany hums, her palms now running up and down Santana's back. "You're always extra tense on Fridays."

"Plus this particular weekend took fucking long enough to get here."

They continue to lie there for a little longer, linger in the afterglow of sex. Santana closes her eyes and keeps her breathing in time with Brittany's when, suddenly, she blurts out, "You're happy for Quinn and Rachel, right?"

"What?"

"I know you don't really like Rachel and you don't like marriage and stuff…but you are happy for them, aren't you?"

Even though her body is not ready to move and still feels like jelly, Santana lifts herself up on her elbow and stares down at her girlfriend. She's serious, like…concerned serious. It's unnerving and everything in her is screaming to make it better. "Of course I'm happy," she responds truthfully. "Both Rachel and marriage aren't really my thing, but Quinn's all head over heels, stupid in love and stuff. If she's happy I'm happy."

A huge grin spreads across Brittany's face and Santana can feel herself mirroring the look. "Good, cause when you're happy I'm happy," Brittany says. "And I was already happy for Quinn and Rachel so that's, like…triple the happy."

"It totally is," Santana agrees, dipping her head and placing a soft kiss to Brittany's lips. "Now, though…we need to shower and get ready."

Brittany's eyes darken a bit and her smile turns into a smirk as her voice husks out, "Together?"

Santana kisses her again, making a mental note to be just as quick in the shower as they were just now if they want to spend any time outside of their suite in Vegas.

**xxxxx**

When Santana struts into Quinn and Rachel's room, the other blonde is pulling on a dress and Rachel is standing behind her, ready to zip her up.

"Just about finished?" Santana asks, flopping down on the bed and grabbing a remote to open the window in the room. The bright lights of the city shone through and Santana smiled at the possibility the night held.

Rachel spins Quinn after she's all zipped and smoothes her hands down the sides of the dress. "You sound pretty impatient," Quinn observes as she smiles down at Rachel. "You're the one that gave us an hour."

"I overestimated my stamina," Santana smirks. "And B said she had something to pick up so we finished earlier than I thought."

"We heard," Rachel mutters. "You would think the walls would be a little thicker…"

Quinn merely shakes her head, used to the behavior of her best friends, and steps away from Rachel to go to the mirror and pencil in some finishing touches on her makeup. Santana rolls her eyes and taps her finger against her watch. "You're still finishing up your makeup?" she asks, annoyed. "Fuck Quinn…I'd like to see the strip sometime this century."

"Cool you're shit," Quinn shoots back. "We're still waiting for Brittany too."

"Hey guys," Brittany greets, appearing like a fucking ninja and even startling Santana. "You ready to let the dogs out?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Rachel asks with raised eyebrows.

"The dogs out," Brittany repeats, shifting back and forth on her feet as she begins to sing. "Who let the dogs out? Who? Who? Who who?"

Santana and Quinn laugh as Rachel continues to stare in disbelief. "You can't be serious," she says. "You're not even singing in the right key-"

"Rachel," Quinn says quietly, turning towards her. "It's fine."

Quinn smiles over at Brittany. "And I'm ready now so let's go let the dogs out."

Brittany claps her hands together and bounces up and down.

Both couples walk hand in hand out of the room and down the hall towards the elevators. Santana punches the button and turns back to appreciate the tight, curve hugging navy dress that Brittany has on. Her eyes are traveling up toned calves, followed by muscular thighs, and then halt at an ugly, leather, shit brown colored bag she somehow didn't notice Brittany had slung around her shoulder. "What the fuck is that bag, Britt?"

"It's my satchel," she answers, placing her hands over it protectively. "It's where I keep my things."

The elevator opens before the discussion can continue further. After years and years of being together, Santana knows how to pick and choose her battles. She grabs her hand and pulls her into the elevator behind Quinn and Rachel.

"Wait," Quinn says when the doors close and the car starts pulling them upwards. "We're going up."

"Very astute, _Doctor_."

"Fuck you, Santana," she fires back. "Why the fuck are we going up?"

Santana doesn't answer, just gives out random 'Chill out' and 'Shut up and you'll see when we get there' as she leads them through the maintenance sections of the hotel before reaching the door to the roof. She pushed it open, the night breeze whipping into their faces, and grabbing a nearby cinder block to prop the door open.

"We are definitely _not_ supposed to be up here!" Rachel exclaims. "It's clearly marked-"

"Fuck you bitches need to loosen up," Santana sighs in frustration. "We're paying for a fucking villa. We can do whatever the fuck we want. I just want to show you something."

"How the hell did you even find this place?" Quinn asks once they carefully climb the ladder near the door and find themselves on the roof of Caesar's, overlooking the Las Vegas strip.

"Don't worry about it."

Santana keeps walking forward, closing her eyes and breathing in the air as she hears Quinn and Rachel shuffle closely, and carefully, behind her. They begin to marvel at the sight and Santana furrows her brow at the distinct _lack_ of Brittany. "Babe?"

All three turn to see Brittany squatting over her bag, fiddling with four shot glasses and a bottle of Jaeger. "Whatcha got, B?"

She struts forward, passing out the glasses and pouring out the shots. Quinn keeps laughing, looking at all of them and Santana notices a flush creeping up on her face. "This is, um…" she begins, stammering a bit cause Quinn always got kind of nervous whenever she has to speak for an audience of more than two people, even if they all know the blonde intimately in their own way.

It was actually pretty amusing to Santana, one of the very few reasons she was actually looking forward to the wedding that weekend. She couldn't wait to see Quinn fumble through her vows. Brittany, having a sixth sense when it came to Santana, nudged her with her elbow as before pouring her shot. She smiled back at Brittany apologetically before turning back to Quinn.

"To Rachel," she begins again, clearing her throat and smiling down at Rachel. "The, uh…love of my life. I just wanted to say…that whatever may happen tonight may it just be a small, minor speed bump in an otherwise very long and healthy marriage. I love you baby."

Even though she wants to throw up, Santana clinks her glass with the other three and tips the shot back. She bites back the 'pussies' resting on her tongue at the ridiculous faces her friends make at the taste just as Brittany begins filling up their glasses again. "OK," Santana says when the glasses are full again. "I want to talk about something-"

"I'd just like to say," Brittany says loudly, overlapping Santana and oblivious to the strange looks being sent her way. "I want to say something…that I've prepared."

She hands the glass to Santana as she pulls out a piece of paper from her dress and unfolds it. It's pretty crumpled up and Santana leans a little to the side to try to see what it says as Brittany silently skims the words. As usual, when it comes to the blonde's writing, she's not able to decipher it and has to wait patiently for Brittany to be ready.

Brittany clears her throat, makes eye contact with each of them, and looks back down at her paper. "Hello," she starts, looking up at them yet again before going back to her speech. "How about that ride in? I guess that's why they call it Sin City. Ha ha ha."

Santana smiles sweetly at her girlfriend and Quinn tries to bites back her laughter while Rachel politely, and seriously, continues to listen and give Brittany her full attention.

"No one really knows this, not even Santana," she goes on as Santana focuses more on Brittany, now a little concerned with where she could be going. "But I always considered myself a bit of a loner. Not everyone gets me and I'm kind of just there…by myself. I tend to think of myself as a single flock of duck. Then I met Santana when I was six and I knew she was one of my own. Then we met Quinn and we were an Unholy Trinity of ducks. Then Quinn brought Rachel in and I knew she was one of us…a duck.

"Each time you added- I added a member…when you ducks came into my life…I didn't…I thought…could it be? Have I found my flock?"

Santana glances over to Rachel who looks like she wants to say something. Luckily, Quinn shakes her head and pulls Rachel into her side while looking at Brittany affectionately as Santana moves forward to stand close to Brittany. She gets a little thrown off, losing her place in the speech, but smiles when she finds it and continues.

"Now…there's four of us ducks, flying around the desert in Las Vegas…looking for strippers and cocaine."

All three of their faces drop and Santana arches an eyebrow at Brittany who is now digging through her bag to retrieve something. "So tonight," she says, holding up a switch blade before bringing it down towards her other palm. "I make a toast-"

"Brittany…NO!" Santana exclaims. "What the fuck?"

Quinn walks forward, cursing and yelling as she carefully wrestles the knife away from a now pouting Brittany. "What the fuck was that, B?" Santana yells.

"I wanted to make, like, a blood pact."

"No, Britt," Quinn says softly, shaking her head and squeezing her shoulder. "Just…no."

"Come on," Santana says, handing over the shot. "We're just going to do some more shots and not draw blood. OK, babe?"

Still a little pouty, but Brittany agrees and Santana leans forward for a quick kiss before holding her glass out, waiting for the other three. "Here's to a night the four of us will never forget."

Their glasses clink together once more, the four take their shot, and then the rest is black.**  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:**The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count: **  
**Disclaimer:**All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter 3**

When consciousness slowly tries to work it's way back into Santana, she only hears noises. That's partly cause she refuses to open her eyes. All she feels is a constant pounding in her head and she's not ready to add light to it just yet so her eyes remain closed.

From what she can gather, though, she's only wearing a bra and her panties and she's face down on the floor with her face jammed into a pillow and a large comforter thrown haphazardly over body. Instinctively, her hand reaches out to seek any form of contact from her girlfriend but it just ends up falling heavily on the floor, groping at an empty space.

It bothers her a little, that Brittany's not right next to her (especially considering she's practically naked) but thinking about it just makes her headache worse so she starts listening to get a feel of what's going on.

There's a couple things moving around the villa. Santana hears the distinct sound of bare feet padding across the floor and…a chicken?

That can't be right.

Now she really wants to open her eyes to see what the fuck was going on. She chances a peek and regrets it instantly, squeezing her eye back shut and burying her face further into the pillow. It eliminates any possibility of light finding it's way into her eyeballs so that's good, but she needs her head to not feel like it's getting hit with a hammer repeatedly before she can investigate things further.

Of course, that notion goes all to hell when there's a loud crash from the other end of the room. It doesn't cause Santana's eyes to open but her arms come up to fold the ends of the pillow up over her ears as she lets out a muffled groan.

The pain is just too unbelievable so instead of listening or opening her eyes she tries to think back to what it is she could have done to make her feel like this. She doesn't remember anything, though. Her mind is just completely…blank. There's a brief, fuzzy memory of the four of them standing on the roof, toasting Quinn and Rachel and then…

Nothing.

What the hell happened?

Santana decides it's a good time to get up when Brittany screams and falls into a scared mess right on top of her. Now there's pain everywhere as the blonde scrambles on top of her, kicking her legs and trying to push her body far away from wherever it was she came from.

"Brittany! Fuck!" she yells pushing herself up and reaching out to hold on to her girlfriend. "What the fuck is going on?"

"There's a tiger in the bathroom!" Brittany screeches.

Now, Brittany has said some pretty crazy things and she looks about as great as Santana feels so she's not sure where Brittany got the idea that there's a tiger in the bathroom, but she knows that now she has to pee. The girl's still squirming though, mumbling about the giant jungle cat when Quinn pipes up from the other end of the room.

"What's going on?"

"There is a tiger in the bathroom!"

Ignoring Brittany's claim, Santana pushes herself up and looks over at Quinn, hair sticking up, mouth hung open, and glasses sitting crooked on her face. "I'll check it out," Santana mutters, pulling her leg free from Brittany's strong grasp and ignoring her pleas to stay out of the bathroom. "B! Brittany! I'm sure it's fine, OK? I gotta pee though…"

Santana pushes open the door and she's not a half a step in when there's a loud growl coming from her right and, just like Brittany said, there's a fucking _tiger_ in their bathroom. She promptly closes the door and turns around to face Brittany, chuckling slightly at the reality that Brittany said something crazy (like, _really_ crazy. Crazier the usual) and it was actually the truth.

"Holy shit there's a tiger in the bathroom," she laughs in disbelief and looks over at Quinn. "Fuck…Britt's not kidding. There's a tiger in there."

Quinn shakes her head. "No there isn't."

"_Yes_! Yes there is," Brittany insists as Santana steps forward, wrapping her arm around Brittany's waist and pulling her into her side. "It's big and gigantic and orange and…it's real."

Santana turns and presses a kiss to Brittany's forehead to try to get her to calm down a little bit. When she pulls back and begins walking them over to the couches where Quinn is still sitting, eyes now locked on the bathroom housing the tiger, when she notices that Brittany is only wearing an over sized T shirt that stops way too high on her thighs and reveals…

"Britt, babe…you should put some pants on."

The blonde looks down and moves away from Santana to wander past Quinn. She watches the blonde walk away cause even though she's hungover she's not dead and Brittany's ass is just…

Yeah. Well.

She tears her eyes away and surveys the extreme damage from the night before. The night she can't, for the life of her, recall whatsoever. She looks at Quinn as she sits down and can't help the smirk that comes across her face. "You OK buddy?"

"No, I'm not," Quinn replies right away, her voice hoarse and sounding numb and detached from life. "Santana…they have my credit card downstairs…look at this place I'm…I am _so_ screwed."

Quinn buries her face in her hands, mumbling something that Santana can't make out when she notices Brittany has found her way back to the bathroom and is have a mini freak out. "I mean…how does a tiger get in there?" she asks with wide eyes. "It almost killed me!"

"Brittany, it's OK…it can't hurt you now," she tells her when she turns. "And, babe, you really need to put on some pants if I even want to have a chance of thinking clearly this morning."

Suddenly, the thumping in her head begins to increase and she scrunches her face in a wince as she turns back to Quinn. "As clearly as I can, anyway," she adds as an afterthought.

Behind her Brittany's still eyeing the bathroom door as she leans down and wraps the sheet Santana was tangled up in around her waist and moves away from the door.

There's a Monster on the table in front of her and Santana lifts the can, pleased to find it a little heavy and tips it back to her lips. Only after she takes a few sips and lowers the can does she think that _anyone_ could have drank from it, but she really doesn't care. She needs a pick me up and she really wants to find out what went down last night.

"What the fuck happened last night?" she asks Quinn.

Quinn shrugs but she seems preoccupied by something else. Her lips are a tight, thin line and her brow is furrowed in confusion. "Hey, S," she begins, turning to her friend and showing her teeth. "Am I missing a tooth?"

It takes a second for Santana to focus on Quinn's mouth but, when she does, she can't help but start to laugh. "Oh shit…"

That's all the confirmation Quinn needs. She fumbles for something on the table, something to show her reflection, Santana assumes. She finds a large platter and holds it out in front of her, baring her teeth again. Her eyes go wide, like comically wide, as her finger holds up her lip to really see the extent of the damage.

"Oh…my…God…" she starts off slow, her eyes glued to the mirrored image in front of her. "My lateral incisor is gone. It's GONE!"

"OK…OK…look, calm down," Santana begins, reaching a hand out to squeeze Quinn's shoulder. "We're fine. Everything's fine. We just need to stop and think, get some fucking coffee, and then get the fuck out of Nevada before housekeeping shows up."

"Santana-"

"B," she calls out, ignoring Quinn. "Go get Berry and wake her up and then we're getting the fuck out of here."

"Oh no Rachel," Quinn gasps. "Fuck…what am I going to say when I see her? We're getting fucking married…oh shit-"

Santana holds one hand up and brings the other to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Seriously. Calm down," she commands. "I have a fucking headache and all this freaking out is just making it worse."

"How am I supposed to calm down?" Quinn asks, her eyes now filling up and threatening to spill over with tears. "Look around you, Santana…I mean…_fuck_."

"Rachel's not here," Brittany announces as she emerges from the hall that leads to the bedrooms. "She's not in her room."

"Did you check all the rooms, babe?"

Brittany nods. "Yeah…and her mattress is gone too."

Santana can tell from Quinn's face that she's about five seconds away from losing it. "It's fine, Q," she assures her. "It's OK. I'm sure Berry just went down to the pool for some food or something, OK? We'll try her cell."

Quinn seems to accept that but glances at her reflection again, wiping away the dried blood and holding her lip up and grimacing. "I look like a dirty hillbilly." Santana merely chuckles as she finds Rachel's number in her phone and presses the dial key. She doesn't even have the phone up to her ear when she hears Rachel's ringtone (_Defying Gravity_, of fucking course) coming from another part of the villa and causing Quinn to look over at Santana with a worried expression.

Brittany cocks her head towards the sound and digs up the phone from under a pile of trash and looks at the screen before flipping it open. Santana arches an eyebrow and Quinn looks on in disbelief as the blonde casually answers, "Hello."

"Brittany."

"Hey."

"It's Santana."

"Oh hey Santana," she goes on before lowering the phone and looking down at it with a frown. "This is Rachel's phone."

Santana loves Brittany, she does, but she cannot not roll her eyes at her girlfriend when she does shit like that. Quinn looks like she's about to explode when, suddenly, a sound echoes throughout the suite. Santana refuses to believe what she hears because it would just be too crazy, but then she remembers there's a fucking tiger in their bathroom and now anything is possible.

Like the fact that she hears a baby crying.

"What the fuck is that?" Quinn asks with wide eyes.

Santana pushes herself off the couch, Quinn trailing close behind, and follows Brittany over to a closet where the sound seems to be coming from. She reaches out to grab the handle and Santana rests her hand on Brittany's shoulder as she pulls open the door.

Sure enough, there is a baby crying in a car seat on the ground.

"Whose fucking baby is that?" Santana asks.

"Brittany," Quinn starts, looking like she saw a fucking ghost or something and not being able to take her eyes off the baby. "Are you sure you didn't see anyone else in the suite?"

"Yeah. I checked all the rooms and no one's here," Brittany assures them. "Check its collar or something…"

Slowly, Quinn moves forward and reaches an unsteady hand out to prod the baby and rock the car seat, trying to comfort it. "Sh, it's OK…baby," she whispers but the baby's not having any of it though and continues to whimper. Santana has zero patience for this and throws her hands up in the air.

"Quinn, come on. We don't have fucking time for this. We have to go meet up with your dwarf by the pool. We'll deal with this…_thing_ later."

Quinn rounds on Santana. "Are you fucking insane? We're not going to leave a baby in the room. There's a fucking _tiger_ in the bathroom!"

"It's not our baby," Santana shrugs.

"I'm with Quinn on this one," Brittany says, aiming her pout at Santana.

It's her weakness, plus she does realize how irresponsible it would actually be to leave a baby in the suite with a ferocious animal in another room, even if she's convinced that as long as the baby's in the closet and the tiger's in the bathroom everything would be fine. Brittany sticks her bottom lip out further, and it quivers just a little and Santana sighs. "Fine, we'll take it with us."

Brittany smiles and Santana reaches for her hand and notices that she still has the sheet wrapped around her waist. "Brittany, babe, I'm begging you…find some pants," she says as her mind is filled with images of Brittany wearing nothing under the sheet. "We got to go."

**xxxxx**

They're in the elevator heading down to the first floor silently and Santana can feel the worry coming off of Quinn. Brittany doesn't notice (or care, it's hard to tell without flat out asking her) and is just standing, arm resting against the elevator wall to hold herself up while the other hand, or her finger more specifically, is being held by a tiny hand that belongs to the baby strapped into the carrier that she found and strapped to her chest.

Quinn is standing away from them with a towel full of ice pressed up against her gap and her foot tapping anxiously on the ground. She knows she should be more sympathetic to Quinn, but she probably is just overreacting. Rachel's not really missing, that's crazy. Yeah, the room's trashed and there's a tiger and a baby, but it's all stuff they can deal with after Santana shoves food in her mouth, drinks a butt load of water (maybe a beer too), and gets rid of her headache. Freaking out is not going to help, but Quinn doesn't realize this, has never been good at keeping clam, and turns her head slightly to look at the baby.

"Why can't we remember a goddam thing from last night?"

Santana watches Quinn watch the baby. There's something about the way she's staring that makes Santana feel uneasy, but she shrugs it off. "Cause, _obviously_, we had a great fucking time," she says, shaking her head at Quinn. "And why don't you stop worrying for one minute. Be proud of yourself."

Quinn wants to say something back, but decides against it when the doors open and a woman steps on to the car with them. She looks a little taken back with their disheveled appearances until she sees the baby with Brittany. "Oh! How cute!" she squeals. "What's his name?"

Brittany continues to stare forward, caught up in whatever haze she's wandering through today, until Santana nudges her.

"Carlos."

Again, Quinn looks at Brittany like she hasn't known the blonde for nearly as long as she has and shakes her head. The woman that walked on quickly exits at the next stop before the elevator brings them to the first floor and they make their way to the pool area. Quinn mumbles that she's going to look around for Rachel while Santana grabs Brittany's hand and they go get a table.

And a high chair for Carlos.

While the waitress is there Santana orders some food and coffee and juice while Brittany coos over the baby and they wait for Quinn to find Rachel. Before their order comes Santana buries her face in her hands and tries to _will_ her headache away while Brittany plays with the baby. The food and everything arrives and Santana chugs a cup of hot coffee and instructs the waitress to make sure she never sees the bottom of that cup.

She's on her third cup when Brittany starts giggling. "S, look."

Brittany has the babies hand and is movie it up and down over his diaper while cackling like they're twelve again. "He's jacking his little weenus."

In spite of the situation they're in (her hangover, and the fact that what Brittany's doing is just plain _wrong_) Santana laughs but shakes her head too. "Pull yourself together, Britt," she says, trying to be stern but unable to control her laughter as she reaches for her coffee.

"Not at the table, Carlos," Brittany scolds playfully as she drops the baby's hand and reaches for her juice.

Quinn plops down at their table, looking more frazzled than when she set off to look for Rachel, and throws her hands up in the air. "I looked everywhere," she tells them. "Gym, casino, front desk…nobody's seen Rachel. She's not here."

"She's fine. She's a grown woman," Santana stops. "Well, she'll never be tall enough to ride rollercoasters or anything-"

"_Santana_."

"You just need to calm down," she says, ignoring Quinn and pushing some coffee her way. "Drink up."

That's when Quinn throws up right next to her feet. She had a bagel midway to her mouth when she sighs and lets it fall back to the plate. Quinn's muttering something about not being able to have anything and feeling sick and Santana's sick of the whole situation and is ready to get down to business.

"Alright, listen…let's just track this thing," Santana pats down her pockets and pulls out a pen and grabs a napkin t use. "Let's start from the beginning. What's the last thing we remember doing last night?"

Brittany pushes her sunglasses up to rest on her head and rubs her eyes. "First thing was the roof with the shots of Jaeger."

Quinn gags instantly at the memory.

Ignoring her, Santana moves on, "Then we had dinner at The Palm…right?"

"That's right," Brittany nods. "Then we played that dice game at The Hard Rock and…I _think_…Rachel was there."

"No, you're right," Santana says as she scribbles away the timeline they have so far. "She was definitely there-"

"Yeah, you know what guys?" Quinn cuts in sharply. "I don't even remember _dinner_."

"I know…_fuck_!" Santana throws the pen down on the table and leans back in her chair running her hands through her hair. "I don't think I've ever been this hungover…"

"After The Hard Rock I blacked out," Brittany chimes in, laughing like a crazy person. "It was, like, _emptiness_. HA."

Santana grabs the napkin and looks over the times. "OK, we have till 10 PM. So that's…a 12 hour window where we could have lost her."

She continues to stare at the napkin, trying to find some part of her brain that is working and hiding the memories of last night, when Brittany asks, "What is this?"

"Oh my God! That is my tooth!"

Sure enough, when Santana glances up Brittany is holding up Quinn's bloody tooth. She snatches it from Brittany's hand and holds it out in front of her, horrified. "Why do you have that?"

"It was in my pocket."

"What else is in your pocket?" Quinn sneers.

But Santana smacks her arm and grins. "No…this is a good thing! Check your pockets…check them."

Begrudgingly, Quinn goes through her pockets while Brittany dumps a pile of change on the table and Santana reaches into her own.

Quinn unfolds a piece of paper. "I have an ATM receipt from the Bellagio…at 11:05…for _EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS_. Oh my God! I am so fucked."

"I have a valet ticket from Caesar's," Brittany reads off the stub. "Looks like we got in around 5:15 AM."

"Shit…we drove last night?" Santana buries her face in her hands. The more she learns about this night, the less she likes.

Brittany, however, seems undeterred and laughs again. "Driving drunk. Classic."

Quinn mock laughs before turning serious and leaning close to Brittany. "None of this funny, Brittany. Rachel's missing, I'm out eight hundred dollars, and we can't remember anything-"

"Lay off, Q," Santana snaps, reaching out a hand and taking Brittany's. "You flipping your shit isn't helping-"

"What's that?"

Both Santana and Quinn look down at Santana's wrist where Brittany's free hand is playing with a yellow, plastic bracelet. "Santana…you were in the hospital last night?"

She looks over at Quinn briefly before lifting her arm up to view the bracelet. "I guess so…"

"Are you OK?" Brittany asks in a small, scared voice.

"I'm fine, babe," Santana replies immediately, grabbing the blondes hand again. "And this is a good thing. We have a lead now."**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:**The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count: **  
**Disclaimer:**All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter 4**

They pay for their food, after Brittany simulates Carlos jacking off for Quinn (who totally laughed, but was still too stuck up and worried to let herself really enjoy Brittany's strange, unique sense of humor), and head to the valet to pick up the car and head to the hospital to get some more information about last night.

They're waiting for the valet and Brittany's cooing over the baby while Quinn just stares unsurely at them. It's typical behavior from someone who needs to control _everything_, but, while Brittany may be a little dim, she's an adult and she would never intentionally hurt a baby. So she focuses on watching for the Mercedes to pull up, but Quinn, apparently, has something to say.

"You sure you're qualified to handle the baby?"

"Yeah, I found a baby before."

Quinn arches an eyebrow and Santana turns her focus back to the conversation. "You found a baby before?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Coffee Bean," Brittany shrugs. "Hey, San…I don't think Rachel would want us to take the Mercedes."

Santana sighs. "Everyone really needs to relax."

"Brittany's right," Quinn says. "Rachel's dads love that car. They're crazy about it, and they left Rachel in charge-"

"Do you wanna find Rachel or not?" Santana asks. "We gotta figure out what happened last night so we can find her, and we need the car for that."

For someone who's engaged to the midget, Quinn gets distracted by something else and motions upwards. "Check it out." Brittany and Santana turn and look up to see a crew hoisted up to a part of the hotel where a mattress has been dropped on to one of the statues. Santana shuts her eyes because she has an eerie feeling that they're responsible for it.

"Is that the mattress from Rachel's room?" Brittany asks, confirming Santana's suspicions.

Quinn begins the tell tale stages of completely losing her shit and Santana pats her on the arm when the valet brings their car around. Not the car they were expecting, however.

The attendant exist a police car. "Here's your car, officers."

Seriously, what the fuck happened last night?

The three of them look like they've just seen a unicorn or something and Quinn has her hand raised, ready to question the valet guy, but Santana grabs it, hissing, "Act cool. OK? Just…go with it."

Quinn hesitantly walks forwards, getting thrown off a little when Brittany bounces up to the car and opens the back door. "I've always wanted to ride in the back of one of these."

Santana and Quinn pile in and peel out of the hotel and the three (and a half, counting Carlos) start driving towards the hospital. Of course they hit traffic which is a perfect opportunity for Quinn to start getting crazy and worried. Santana jus9t continues to drink her coffee while Brittany plays with Carlos in the back seat.

But Quinn's still bouncing in the passenger seat, going so far as to sit on her hands to try to stop the fidgeting.

It's not working.

"This is _so_ illegal."

And Santana's sick of it. "Can't you see the fun part in _anything_?"

Quinn's pretty fed up too as she calmly retorts, "Yeah…we're stuck in traffic in a stolen police car with what's sure to be a missing child in the backseat and my fiancé is missing. Which part of this is supposed to be fun?"

After a beat, Brittany chimes in with, "I think the cop car part is pretty cool."

"Thanks babe," Santana throws a smile over her shoulder, but the traffic is frustrating and she just wants to try to piece together the previous night and find Rachel as soon as possible before she does something crazy like smack Quinn in the face. She presses into the horn a few times and inches forward only to have to hit the brakes once more.

Traffic is probably one of life's greater frustrations. She always wished she had a tank that could roll over cars or something that would make her car fly over the rest of traffic instead of this torturous normalcy. That's when an idea pops into her head.

_Fuck it_, she thinks as she flips the sirens on and turns to the right and drives the cruiser over the curb and onto the sidewalk.

"Oh no! No, no, no, no, no! Don't do this!" Quinn yells, smacking Santana on the arm as the car jerks up and people start to make room for the vehicle. Brittany's laughing in the back and Santana smiles at Quinn. "Just…call _more_ attention to ourselves, S. Jeez."

Quinn _did_ ask for it.

"Attention please," she says to the crowd through the speakers on the front of the car. "Attention. Move out of the way. I repeat, please disperse."

Quinn is throwing apologies out the window and Santana continues to sound the sirens and drive forward as people jump out of the way of the police car. "Stop the car I wanna get out," Quinn begins muttering over and over again, but Santana ignores her cause, even if this is dangerous, it's _really_ fun.

Drunk with power, she suddenly announces, "I should've been a fucking cop."

"You would be a terrible cop," Quinn tells her.

"I think you'd be a hot cop," Brittany admits.

"I'd be such a fucking bad ass," Santana agrees as she pulls off the curb and onto an open road, speeding towards the hospital.

"Please," Quinn scoffs. "Bad things would happen. You know you'd get shot, you'd probably get me shot too. Brittany would be kidnapped or something, Rachel would get hit by a car-"

"How do you even create such a fucked up universe like that?" Santana laughs as the world Quinn's suddenly imagined tries to build itself in her head, but it's too ridiculous to imagine. "That would _never_ happen…"

**xxxxx**

They finally find the doctor who treated them last night and he is less than willing to cooperate, to say the least.

Also, he's super hot. Like, the _hottest_ doctor alive.

And she loves Brittany, the girl is the love of her life and she's stupidly whipped and all that other sappy junk…but she is allowed to _appreciate_ other people.

Even if they're being asses.

"Look, I already told you…you came in last night with a mild concussion, some bruised ribs...no big deal. Although, none of you could articulate how it happened."

Santana knows he's saying words and she should try to pay attention, but it's hard when they have to talk to such a fine doctor and all she's thinking about is how to bring up him possibly joining her and Brittany for a threesome.

Dr. Carl Howell is sitting at his desk, scribbling away on a chart and seems like he'd rather be giving some old, wrinkly man a prostate exam than answer a few of their questions. "Do you remember how many of us were here?"

"Uh, I don't know, just you ladies," he shrugs, looking up and watching Brittany and Carlos with an uneasy eye. "Definitely no baby."

If he wants to say something about it, he chooses not to. He goes back to writing his notes, pausing quickly and adding. "Oh, and definitely another woman."

"Rachel," Quinn sighs with relief. "Was she OK?"

"Fine," Carl replies, obviously bored. "Just whacked out of her mind. You _all_ were." He closes the file and rises from his chair and tries to brush past them. "Ladies, I really have to go. I have surgery up on the fourth floor."

Santana steps in his path, getting a little distracted by how close they're standing together, and holds up a folded fifty in her hand. "We just need a couple more minutes of your time."

He eyes the bill in Santana's hand before snatching it up, walking back to his desk, picking up one of the files, and giving Santana the opportunity to check out his fine ass. He opens it up, begins to scan the pages as he walks forward. "Walk with me."

They follow him out of his office and through the halls as he continues to read over their file. "OK let's see...patient name: Santana Lopez…2:45 AM arrival…minor concussion, _like I said_, some bruising…pretty standard-"

"Mind if I take a look?" Quinn jogs forward, Knocking Santana aside and stepping in time with Carl. For a second she thinks about yanking Quinn away by the hair, but remembers she has no claim to the hotness that is Dr. Carl and smiles over at her _actual_ hotness, Brittany, as Quinn keeps talking. "I'm actually a doctor-"

"Yeah. You said that several times last night…but really, you're just a dentist," Carl swats Quinn's hand away and stops leafing through the pages. "OK, this is interesting. Your blood work came in this morning. Wow. They found a large amount of rufilin in your system."

Carl stops at the nurses' station and looks back at the three blank stares he's receiving. "Rufilin…roofies…commonly known as the 'date rape' drug."

"We were drugged?"

Carl nods, "I'm not surprised you don't remember anything."

Brittany's laugh causes the rest of them to jump and jerk their attention in her direction. "None of us can remember anything form last night. Remember?"

Ignoring the way Carl looks at Brittany (being super fine does _not_ give him an excuse to silently judge Brittany's dimness, but she's let it slide), Santana goes with it. "Yeah, how could someone have drugged all of us?"

"Look, I wouldn't worry about it," Carl replies impatiently. "By now, the stuffs out of your system. You're going to be fine. I have to go."

"Wait, Dr. Howell, please," Quinn pleads. "Is there _anything_ else…something we could have been talking about…some place we could have been going…?"

"Actually there was something," he nods, his memory coming back to him. "You kept talking about some wedding last night."

Quinn sighs, "Yeah I'm getting married tomorrow."

"Yeah, and that was useless information. I want my fifty back."

Santana reaches for the cash now tucked inside his pocket, really just looking for an excuse to try and grope him, but Carl grabs her hand to stop her. "Hey…easy. You kept talking about a wedding that you _just_ came from. The Best Little Chapel…you kept saying how _sick_ the wedding was and getting crazy about it. Look I hope this helps cause I have to go."

Santana pulls out the napkin with their timeline and a pen and grabs Carl's sleeve as he tries to walk away. She takes a second to squeeze his bicep before shaking her head and trying to focus. "Wait. Do you know where The Best Little Chapel is?"

"I do," Carl smiles brightly. "It's at the corner of 'Get a map' and 'Fuck off.'"

Santana suppresses the urge to yank him and Brittany into a nearby closet cause that was just the hottest thing he could have possibly done, but he walks away, ending their conversation and throwing over his shoulder, "I'm a doctor, not a tour guide. You're all big girls. Figure it out yourselves."

**xxxxx**

Quinn had to practically drag her out of the hospital so she wouldn't make another pass at Dr. Hottie, but the good news is they have a lead and after a quick call to information they get the location of The Best Little Chapel and drive over.

They all exit the car and Brittany stops before shutting her door. "What about the baby?"

"Leave him in the car. We're only gonna be five minutes."

"Whoa," Quinn shakes her head. "We are _not_ leaving a baby in the car."

"He'll be _fine_…I cracked a window."

Santana doesn't even have to look behind to know that Quinn's annoyed, _again_, but she follows Santana none the less as she enters the chapel, her hand clasped firmly with Brittany's. "What if they don't remember us?" Quinn asks from behind them.

"Let's just ask," Santana shrugs, walking into the chapel and seeing a man arguing with a woman standing on a step stool and dusting off the hanging chandeliers. The man, sporting a ridiculous Mohawk, turns at the sound of them shuffling in. A huge smile spreads across his face as he walks forward.

"Holy shit!" he exclaims. "You bitches missed me, didn't you? You missed el Puckerone, eh?"

Before she can react, the man wraps his arms around Santana and gives her ass a firm pat, breaking free before Santana can sock him in the mouth and turning to Brittany. "This crazy chick!" he exclaims, cupping her face with his palms and smiling like a mad man. "Look at her, you fucking nut!"

The Mohawked guy pulls Brittany into a hug and Santana, once again, fights the urge to rip his throat out, but he pulls away from the blonde and steps back to address the three of them. "Listen up, I'm gonna tell you something," he starts off, dead serious. "I've known some _sick_ people in my life. This chick right here," He points at Quinn. "She's the craziest, wildest, bitch I ever met in my life."

"Who?" Santana arches an eyebrow. "Quinn?"

"Yes!" he shouts, pulling Quinn into his arms and spinning her around. "What's going on you fucking crazy mother fucker?"

He steps back and looks at them expectantly and with a huge, wide grin, but they can only stare back because he's still a stranger to them thanks to the roofies. "What?" he chuckles. "No love for Puck?"

"Um…no, _Puck_," Quinn replies politely. "It's just that we're having a hard time remembering what happened last night."

"Was there a wedding her? Do you do weddings here?" Brittany asks, uninterested in Puck and getting distracted by the way the chapel looks. Santana follows her gaze and notices yellow tulips decorating the chapel, the white, twinkling lights that line the walls, and the way some of the fake doves hanging from the ceiling are now colored yellow and given orange bills, like ducks.

Puck laughs in response, smacking Santana's arm and motioning towards Brittany. "Stop busting my balls, bitches."

Instinctively, Quinn grabs Santana's arm, signaling her to calm down, not shove her foot into his crotch, and focus. "OK…Puck…obviously we were here last night," Santana says through her teeth. "But we're looking for our friend, Rachel. Do you remember her?"

"Yeah," he nods, holding up his hand level with his naval. "Small girl, like a dwarf."

"You saw her?" Quinn's eyes light up and she doesn't even comment on the description of Rachel, which gives Santana hope that they'll get a decent lead and Quinn will chill the fuck out.

Puck bobs his head up and down. "Of course."

"Is there anything you can tell us about what may have happened last night?"

For the first time since he saw them, Puck's smile begins to falter as he looks over all three of them. "You don't remember anything?"

A few minutes later there gathered around the front desk as Puck puts a large box in front of them, grabbing an album resting on top and sliding it forward. Santana eyes Puck as Quinn reaches an unsteady hand forward and flips open the album.

"Oh _fuck_!"

"Santana," Brittany squeals, snatching the album and leafing through it. "We got married!"

"This can't be happening."

She shakes her head and keeps her hands on either side of her head as Quinn peers over Brittany's shoulders and looks at the drunken wedding photos. "Way to show up my weekend, S," Quinn jokes.

"Fuck off, Quinn."

"Don't forget to check out the rest of the 'High Roller' package you two lovely ladies ordered," Puck jumps in, rifling through the large box. "You got hats, mugs, and fancy calendars of Santana and Brittany Lopez."

"You look so…_happy_, Santana," Quinn notes, grabbing a calendar and looking through the months. "You both do."

"Seriously, Quinn. Shut the fuck up," Santana continues shaking her head back and forth, willing her mind to forget all this along with the rest of last night. Marriage was never supposed to be on her agenda and here she was, fucking married.

Don't people realize that as soon as you're married your life is pretty much over? You're, officially, an adult and you have fucking responsibilities and another person in your life that you have to take care of. Her life had already become monotonous enough without adding _marriage_ into the mix.

At least it was with Brittany, but it's gotta get undone. Now.

"Puck…buddy, you guys do annulments, right?"

Both Quinn and Brittany snap their heads in Santana's direction, but she's only looking at Puck. "Breaks my heart, but yeah. It's part of the business."

"Well…I'll go get the paperwork together for you."

Santana breathes a sigh of relief, but it's short lived when she hears the entrance door to the chapel slam and Quinn's punching her arm, _hard_. "Fuck, Quinn," she hisses, grabbing her bicep. "What the fuck was that for?"

"I can't believe that people think Brittany's the dumb one-"

"Watch it-"

"_Santana_," Quinn snaps. "Did you even bother looking at Brittany's face? Did you see how happy she looked? Then you went and flipped your shit and she's crying you fucking asshole."

All it takes is for her to hear the words 'Brittany' and 'crying' in the same sentence for her attention to be drawn to the now closed door as her mouth hangs open in realization. "Shit."

"Talk to her," Quinn orders gently, squeezing her shoulder and shoving her forward. "I'm gonna talk to Puck and see if we can get any more information."

Santana exits the chapel slowly, using the door as a shield for…something, she's not entirely sure what but she feels safer. Brittany's leaning against the police car and has Carlos strapped to the front of her chest again and is focused on the way his tiny little fingers clasp around her pointer finger.

She steps out and the door shuts behind her, causing Brittany to look up. Dried tear tracks shine on her face and Santana wants to throw herself into traffic for being so stupid.

"I'm sorry," she says, cutting right to the chase. "I shouldn't have been so…It was shocking and I…"

"Why don't you want to be married to me?"

The smallness in Brittany's voice stuns Santana and all she can do is utter Brittany's name, but it doesn't matter because the blonde continues, "I know how you feel about marriage and you hate your job and you hate your life and being a grown up, but I always thought that I was the best thing about your life, your bright spot."

She can't help but smile at the sentiment and it's truth before Brittany goes on. "Maybe I can be the bright spot in our marriage. I mean…we're going to be together forever anyway."

For a second she considers it, but, if they were to get married or remain married or whatever, is this how they want it to happen? Drugged up and with no memory?

"I'm sorry," Santana begins, cautiously stepping forward to stand next to Brittany. "I shouldn't have freaked out like that. At least you're not missing like Rachel."

Brittany turns at that, her face lightening as she reaches her hand out and twists her pinky with Santana's.

They stand there for long moments, the wind whipping their hair back and forth, the sun beating down on their faces, and the sounds of Carlos' cooing ringing in their ears. Sure they've been drugged, beaten (apparently), they stole a police car, found a baby, and survived a crazy night, but, in this moment, Santana imagines they look like a family.

And it's not a terrible image.

But, if it's gonna happen, it's not gonna be like this.

"Look," She starts. "We'll hold off on the whole annulment thing until we find Rachel and we can sit down and talk about things, OK?"

Brittany nods once and Santana leans in slightly, testing the waters to see if Brittany will flinch or pull back. She doesn't and Santana smiles as she leans forward the rest of the way and presses her lips against Brittany's. "I love you."

"You too," Brittany whispers back.

Quinn bursts out the door and heads straight to them, her eyes wide and clutching something in her hand. "You are not gonna believe this. It wasn't just the four of us last night."

"What?"

"There was another woman there," Quinn tells them. "Puck said so, and he kept saying she had a great rack but it's cause she just had a baby."

"Carlos," Brittany says, hugging the baby close.

"Yeah, and she left her ID." Quinn holds up the small piece of plastic in her hand.

"What the fuck are we waiting for then?"

Santana lets got of Brittany and climbs into the driver's seat, but not before noticing Quinn asking Brittany if she could sit in the back with the baby. Brittany didn't mind, but it piqued Santana's interest for whatever reason. It's not anything she can, or wants, to get into at the moment, but she makes a mental note to talk to Quinn later.

Just as she's starting up the car, a supped up, neon orange sports car tears into the parking lot of the chapel and blocks their exit. A tall, skinny Asian guy who actually looks kind of like an adorable goof ball gets out of the car, carrying a metal bat, and walks toward the car with a scowl.

"…the fuck?" Santana mumbles as he walks up to her window and bangs his fist down.

"Where the hell is she?"

Brittany's hand reaches out and wraps around Santana's bicep as the baby starts crying and Quinn pulls him into her side. Santana's freaked the fuck out right now cause there's every chance that this maniac knows them and they just don't remember.

But he's also got a fucking bat and a temper and she doesn't want to piss him off.

He's asking about her though and she wonders if he could mean Rachel. "Whoa, OK…calm down," she shouts through the window, holding up her free hand. "Look…I think we might be looking for the same girl."

As soon as she's finished yelling, the guy brings the bat over his head and swings down, cracking the windshield and ripping screams out of the three of them while the baby cried harder. Brittany's grip on Santana's arm is cutting off her circulation, and she tries to remain somewhat calm so her badass streak won't kick in.

Then she'll do something stupid like get out of the car and try to wrestle the bat away from skinny Asian guy. He raises the bat up again and Santana continues shouting back at him, trying to get him to stop. "How about you get us the fuck out of here, Santana!" Quinn uselessly offers from the back.

Santana rounds on her, "We're fucking blocked!"

The bat comes down on the windshield again and Brittany starts screaming at the guy, "Stop! There's a baby on board!"

He doesn't care. The bat connects for a third time and Santana shifts the car into reverse and backs up a little, trying to figure out how she's gonna get past this guy and his car before he actually smashes the window and pulls them out.

She's pretty sure she's in the middle of some kind of standoff, but then Puck comes out and starts yelling, "Hey! What the fuck are you doing? Get off my fucking property!"

Skinny Asian's response is to drop the bat and pull out the gun he had tucked in the back of his pants. He points it at them. "Get out of the fucking car."

"Oh fuck he's got a gun," Quinn says _helpfully_, once again.

"No shit he's got a gun!"

The only thought running through her mind is that the gun could be pointed at Brittany, and that's enough to shift her mind into rash, survival mode. She puts the car in drive and hits the gas, turning so she won't hit skinny Asian.

Obviously she misjudged the amount of space she had. The car runs over skinny Asian's foot and he cries out in pain as his body twists and he pulls the trigger. Santana turns just in time to see Puck fly back as blood squirts out from where the bullet hit him in the shoulder.

Everyone's shouts are ringing in Santana's ear so she just drives. The police car slams into skinny Asian's car and through a glass bus stop and on to the street, causing traffic to skid to a stop and press down on their horns. She manages to get the car straightened out and floors it, getting as far away from that chapel as possible.

**Chapter 5 - I should have this posted at some point tonight. This is basically done. Hope you guys read and enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count:**  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter 5**

"I just think it'd be really hot."

"Britt-"

"I mean…I don't understand why you won't even consider it. It's pretty much all I can think about."

"What about Rachel?"

"That _and_ Rachel…and our marriage…and the baby…and motocross-"

"_Brittany_, shut up," Quinn hisses, interrupting Santana's conversation with her girl-

_Wife_.

It's still weird to say that.

She still manages to smack Quinn for yelling at Brittany (it's not the blonde's fault that ever since their daring getaway and Santana mentioning that she should've been a cop that that's all she can picture, so much so that she now insists on Santana quitting her job and joining the force), but her best friend has been doing a pretty good job keeping it together so far, considering what they've uncovered about last night and that Rachel is still missing, but Santana is just hoping beyond hope that Rachel is with Carlos's mom or something.

"You shut up," Santana sneer. "What room was it again?"

"825."

Their closing in when a short, blonde woman comes out of the room and spots the three of them. Her eyes light up and she runs up to Brittany, who has the baby strapped to her chest. "There you three are! I was freaking out," she drawls as she removes the baby from the harness and hugs him close. "You should have told me you wanted to spend quality time with him."

"Sorry," Brittany pouts unnecessarily.

"What the hell happened to you guys?"

"Actually…we were hoping you could tell us," Santana says as her hand comes up to rub the back of her neck.

"What do you mean?" the tiny woman squeals as she bounces the baby in her arms. "I got up this morning, I went to get you all coffee, and I came back…and you were gone."

The way this woman is smiling at them and just seems completely unphased by the fact that they had her baby out with them all morning tells Santana that they must have spent a significant amount of time with her last night at…some point. "Why are ya'll so quiet?"

"I'm quiet cause I don't know what to say," Brittany offers after a beat.

The blonde lets out a big laugh and reaches out to pinch Brittany's cheek. "You're so cute," she grins. "Come on inside, I gotta feed Tyler."

Quinn follows the woman into the room and Santana's right on her heels when she notices Brittany trailing behind. "Did you hear that?" she asks quietly, nodding towards the door. "The baby's name is _Tyler_."

Brittany says the name with such disdain that Santana brings her arm up around Brittany's shoulders and hugs her close. "I know, babe," she says before lowering her voice and whispering conspiratorially. "I thought he looked more like a Carlos, too."

When Santana leads Brittany into the apartment, they join Quinn on the couch while the woman is grabbing a few water bottles and balancing them in her hands along with the baby. "OK, what's up?" she squints. "You're acting _weird_."

"Look…um…" Santana trails off and fishes the ID out of her pocket and reads the name 'April Rhodes.' "April…right?"

"Very funny, _Santana_," she teases as she comes over to where they're sitting on the couch and passes out the waters.

Santana forces herself to humor April and she chuckles back. "OK…um, you remember our friend, Rachel?"

"Are you kidding?" April retorts. "She's pretty memorable considering she talked the most out of all of you, especially when you two decided to get hitched."

Santana can't help put bury her face in her hands at the mention of her wedding. Mostly she's doing it so she doesn't say something stupid to upset Brittany again. She's not sure what they're gonna do but she's not gonna hurt her again.

"Yes, _her_," Quinn jumps in. "We can't seem to find her and I'm getting a little worried."

"That sounds like her," April says knowingly. "She kept running away from you guys last night. That's how you ended up where I work."

April walks back into the kitchen as she talks to them, grabbing a bottle for the baby and then settling down on a chair near the couch to feed him. Santana shoots a glance over at Quinn who is mesmerized by this woman feeding her baby and, not only that, she looks ill. Her skin is pale and it doesn't even look like she's breathing.

She also looks scared shitless for some reason.

Probably Rachel, but there's something else too. Santana can feel it, but she moves on to the more pressing matters. "Hey, do you remember the last time you saw Rachel?"

"Not since the wedding."

April shoots Santana and Brittany a big smile and her gut reaction is to smack her, but she just forces a smile on her face and grabs Brittany's hand to squeeze. "The wedding. Right. Do you maybe remember what time that was?"

She bites down on her bottom lip as her eyes look upwards for the answer. "Um…probably 1 AM. I had to get back to my shift. Then when I was done I just met up with ya'll at the hotel with Tyler. Quinn kept talking about how she wanted to see him and-"

"And was Rachel there then?" Quinn cuts in roughly.

April shakes her head. "I didn't see Rachel, but ya'll were passed out. The room was a wreck. So Quinn and I continued our little chat-"

"Um when you said your shift ended, does that mean you're a nurse?" Quinn asks loudly, cutting April off again. "Or a black jack dealer…?"

"You're so funny," April laughs. "I'm a stripper."

"I can't believe we can't remember seeing naked boobs," Brittany pouts.

"Well, actually I'm an escort," April goes on, ignoring Brittany. "But stripping is a great way to meet the clients."

Before any of them can continue, the door gets kicked down and there's guns in their faces again. Three sets of hands go up into the air as the baby wails into April's chest where she's hugging him close. It takes longer than she cares to admit to block out the shouting and the crying and to figure out that the cops are there about the car and that, now, they're in some serious shit.

Even though she never cared too much about Rachel Berry's well being (only cause of Quinn, really) she does hope the girl is OK because they're probably going to be detained for a while.

**xxxxx**

Once they're filed into the system and charged and have their mug shots taken, Santana, Brittany, and Quinn are cuffed together (really fucking awkwardly with arms crossed over other arms at weird angles) and allowed to make their phone call. Quinn suggests calling Kurt Hummel, the wedding planner, an old friend of Rachel's, and capital 'G' gay, to see if Rachel's contacted him.

Also, he's probably getting his fancy pants in a twist anyways since they haven't taken any calls from anyone back home.

She doesn't get an answer and slams the phone down so she gets her money back while an officer ushers a group of children by them. "So after we take the mug shots we bring them down here where they wait to be interviewed by the arresting officers. Trust me, kids. You do _not_ want to be sitting on these benches.

"We call this place: Loserville."

There's a chorus of children's laughter in their faces before they're shuffling along to the next part of the tour.

The phone starts ringing and Santana watches as one chubby, little fatty kid hangs back and lifts his phone to take a picture of her girl-

_Wife_.

Brittany's been pouting the whole time and, now, her pout morphs into a scowl and she brings her foot up to kick away the phone. The kid stumbles a bit and eyes his discarded phone before turning back to glare at Brittany. Santana wants to say something, but Kurt picks up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey…Kurt," Santana greets brightly. "It's Santana."

"Santana…" She can practically hear the disdain dripping off of his tongue. "Where are you ladies?"

"We are…" Santana searches her brain for something to say. "…at the spa…at the hotel."

"OK…I'm going to have to talk to Rachel about what kind of treatments she should be getting while there-"

"She's actually laying out right now," Santana lies. "Getting some sun…but she wanted us to just get in contact to tell you that…um…Oh…that we got comped an extra night at the hotel!"

"Really?"

The way he says that one word tells Santana that she's gonna have to sell the shit out of this story. "Yeah. You should see this room. It's ridiculous…out of control…there's room service and a butler…it's just the works. So…we were thinking of spending the night here and coming back totally _relaxed_ in the morning."

"An extra night?" Kurt asks, skeptical. "But the wedding's _tomorrow_."

"Well we'll be up super early so there's plenty of time to drive back."

The pause before Kurt says something takes fucking forever and Santana's just about to make a comment when he comes back with, "OK…you're sure this is a good idea?"

Their names are called from behind them and Santana gives a hasty goodbye to Kurt before slamming the phone down and trying to, somehow, maneuver herself, Brittany, and Quinn to their assigned interrogation room.

They get sat down and uncuffed by a round, quiet, tan skinned cop whose tag reads 'Bamboo.' He sits on the other side of the table and just _stares_. Not even at them, just off to the left a little, picking a spot on the wall and watching it, unblinking and seemingly not giving a shit about anything.

The door, then, gets pushed open, _hard_. It slams into the back wall and a tall, skinny, dirty blonde haired cop waltzes into the room. She pushes her aviators on to the top of her head and eyes the three of them as she walks up to the empty chair next to her partner and plops down.

Santana looks and sees that her tag reads 'Delmonico.'

"Ladies," she begins. "We've got some good news and we've got some bad news."

They wait as Terri makes eye contact with each of them for about one, solid minute each. Then she drops the folder on to the table and leans over it. "Good news is we found your Mercedes."

"That's _great_ news," Quinn exhales, smiling.

"Yeah, it's over at impound right now," Delmonico goes on. "We picked it up at…5 AM this morning…parked in the middle of Las Vegas Blvd. And on the car was a note. It reads: Couldn't find a meter, but here's 4 bucks."

They squirm under the watchful, crazy eyes of the cop and she's pretty sure Quinn's gonna pee herself or something. It wasn't as bad as Santana thought, but it wasn't good either.

Officer Delmonico continues, "The bad news is…we can't get you in front of a judge till Monday morning."

"That's impossible," Quinn tells them right away. "I'm getting married tomorrow. We _have_ to be back in LA."

"You stole a police car," Bamboo deadpans.

"Well," Santana starts, hoping her luck with bullshit as of late will continue. "Technically…we…_found_ the car."

"Totally," Brittany nods along. "We should get, like…a reward or something. Oh! A trophy!"

"You know I see bitches like you come into my city every day," Delmonico says through gritted teeth. "All 'Woot Vegas' and 'Party' and 'Let's steal a cop car!' You all think you're so fucking funny."

"OK, officers…" Santana leans forward in her seat and takes a deep breath. She figures she's got one shot at this, and she better make it a good one. "I'm assuming that the squad car belongs to one of you. And I'm not a cop…I'm no hero, I'm a school teacher.

"But if one of my kids went missing on a field trip…that would look really bad on me."

Delmonico's eyes flash with recognition of what Santana's saying. Santana's not sure if she's genuinely threatened or playing the game, but she moves on anyway. "Look, we gotta get to a wedding and you don't need people talking about obnoxious tourists borrowing your squad car last night. Point is I think we could work out some kind of deal. _Discreetly_."

They have a bit of a bitch stare off before Bamboo slides over one of the legal pads and points to something Santana can't quite make out. Whatever it is causes Delmonico to chuckle mischievously to herself.

"Do you any of you ladies have a heart condition?" she asks them with a wicked glint in her eye. "Anything like that?"

**xxxxx**

_This should be easy_, Santana thinks to herself.

They're just gonna help the cops go through some demonstrations for the little punks that are touring the police station today. No big deal.

"OK, kids. You're in for a real treat today!" Officer Delmonico is standing in front of them, addressing the kids. "These fine, young women up here have kindly volunteered to demonstrate how a stun gun is used to subdue a suspect."

_What_?

The kids' interest is piqued immediately, but Quinn gives Santana a panicked look before turning to face Delmonico who has walked off to a table on behind her. "Wait a second," Quinn protests. "What?"

"Now there's two ways to use a stun gun," Delmonico continues, ignoring Quinn and reaching up to send a shock right into Quinn's neck. "Up close and personal."

Quinn screams as the sound rings in Santana's ears. Her friend drops to the floor instantly, unconscious, and Santana pushes Brittany behind her and stares at the fucking bitch officer. "What the fuck?"

The horror she's experiencing is drowned out by the children's laughter. Delmonico chuckles along before going on. "Or…from a distance. Do I have any volunteers that wanna come on up and do some shooting? Huh?"

Every hand in the room is raised, including Brittany's. Santana smacks it down as Delmonico chooses a little girl and then beckons Santana over. She crosses to the front of the room, standing next to Quinn's limp body as Delmonico hands over the stun gun and crouches down to talk to the little girl. "OK…all you have to do is point…and shoot. Got it?"

The girl nods enthusiastically as she accepts the gun.

She raises it up and, instinctively, Santana raises her hands. "OK," she begins softly. "You don't really have to do this." This isn't the first time she's had to try to talk a child out of something, but the stakes are obviously a little higher now. Santana thought maybe the cops would've dressed them up in one of those padded suits and have the kids punch them or something, not get fucking zapped.

"You _can_ do this," Delmonico encourages.

"Don't listen to this one. Let's think this though."

"Finish her!"

The little girl pulls the trigger, the charge is released, and it hits Santana low on her abdomen and pain shoots through her entire body. She drops down to her knees and clutches her stomach before falling over and rolling to her side so her back is facing the kids, who are roaring with laughter once more.

She can also hear Officer Delmonico cackling over her and she wants so badly to push herself up and fucking launch herself onto the cop, but her whole body is throbbing in pain and she's paralyzed and helpless to do anything but lie there and feel it.

"Great job sweetie! Give her a hand everybody."

Santana can hear the applause and looks up to see Brittany bringing up her hands, unsure whether to clap or not.

She claps, of course, but stops when Delmonico beckons her over. "One more charge left."

Santana rolls on to her back and turns her head to see all the kids begging for a chance to shoot Brittany with the stun gun. Officer Delmonico picks someone and she watches as the chubster from earlier struts up the aisle, eyes locked intensely on his target.

Brittany.

From where she's lying, she can see the intensity and recognition in Brittany's eyes as well as she steps forward to face the kid. "Same thing I said before," Delmonico says as she loads the charge and hands the gun to the kid. "Just point, aim, and shoot."

A small yet evil smirk appears on the kid's face as he raises the gun. Santana can see the tiny red dot start at the bottom of Brittany's stomach before slowly traveling up the front of her body. Over her chest and her neck to rest comfortably right between Brittany's wide, blue eyes.

"I like the intensity here," Delmonico comments, nudging Bamboo who is just a blank slate of disinterest and boredom. "You're holding 50,000 volts little man. Don't be afraid to ride the lightening."

The kid shoots and the charge hits Brittany right in the face. She yelps and her body goes rigid, but she doesn't drop. In fact, she begins to walk forward, like the electricity coursing through her veins is powering her body and pushing her for revenge on her attacker.

The kids scream, the little fatty gets a scared look in his eyes, but Officer Delmonico is perfectly calm. "Everybody relax, take it easy," she says loudly over their screams, all the while laughing hysterically. "You see, sometimes, you just need an extra hit."

She comes up and zaps Brittany in the neck and the blonde crumples onto one of the tables in the front. Santana chances a glance at Quinn, still knocked out on the floor beside her, before another round of pain begins to surge through her body, strong enough to force her eyes shut and her mind into unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count:**  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter 6**

"Fuck those guys!"

Quinn had been ranting ever since they got dropped off at the impound lot. She has good reason even though Santana has been rolling her eyes at the whole thing. Sure, fucking Officer Delmonico was super sketch, but they got off scott free and they were getting the Mercedes back. Most of their problems were solved.

"That was bullshit," she goes on. "I'm telling everyone we stole a cop car…"

"They let us go, who cares?"

Quinn stares back at Santana with comically, wide eyes. "_I_ care. You can't just do that. You can't…tase people…because you think it's funny. That is police brutality"

Her eyes close and she takes in a deep breath, her whole body rising with the intake, then puffing it back out and raising a finger in the air decidedly. "I'm good," she informs them. "I am, I'm just…thirsty."

"You want a soda or something?" Brittany rises and digs into her pocket for some change and smiles when she pulls out a fistful of coins.

When Brittany smiles, it's really hard to stay angry or upset, even if you're Quinn who's just been tasered and is missing her fiancé. "Thanks, B."

Brittany skips off and Quinn plops down into the now vacant chair next to Santana. She's still taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but there's still worry weighing down on her and Santana isn't used to being the one to give advice or make people feel better so she wrings her hands in front of her and tries to sound as confident as possible when she says, "It's gonna be fine, Q."

"You don't know that," Quinn retorts. "What if something happened to Rachel? What is she's _dead_?"

"Don't talk like that," she shakes her head. "Rachel is fine."

"Then why hasn't she called?"

"I don't know," Santana tells her honestly. "But we're gonna figure it out."

She reaches out and squeezes Quinn's hand and smiles. "I still don't know how you've stayed so calm today."

Santana shrugs. "I wasn't calm when I find out Britt and I got fucking married."

"That is _so_ crazy," Quinn laughs and Santana can't help but join her. "And, strangely, not the craziest thing to happen today. Like that baby…"

The laughter dies down from Quinn and she pulls her hand back and hugs her body tightly. Silence falls over them and, Santana knows there's a lot going on…but she can't shake the feeling that Quinn's going through something so much worse than just missing Rachel. "What else is going on, Quinn?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that baby," Santana clarifies, getting straight to the point. "You've been weird about it all day and you were, like, talking to that April chick last night…you're not telling me something."

"There's nothing to tell," Quinn shakes it off. "Drop it."

Santana throws her hands up in the air. "Fine. Fuck it. Wallow in your misery or whatever."

"You have no idea what I'm dealing with," Quinn mutters.

"I could."

Quinn takes a deep breath, staring out into the impound lot as she talks. "I don't know what we talked about last night but…" She pauses to lick her lips and swallow before moving on, her voice cracking. "But…I'm sure it was about…_my_ baby."

Santana 's eyebrows come together in confusion. "You mean…_the_ baby."

"I was, um…I was…I had a baby before I transferred to McKinley," she confesses quietly. "I was stupid, got knocked up and…I couldn't get an…and I didn't want to keep her so…I gave her up for adoption."

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of her and she just stares back, slack jawed and confused. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"_No one_ knows about this," Quinn informs her. "No one except my parents and they made me move after and told me it was better to just start fresh and not talk about it."

"Fuck," Santana breathes out. "Quinn…I'm…so…I'm sorry."

Quinn shakes her head. "It's fine. It's _better_. Every now and again, though…I just…I see a baby and…wonder."

"Does Rachel know?" Santana asks as soon as the thought pops into her head.

When Quinn looks away, that's all the answer she needs. "Don't you think that'd be a good thing to tell your future wife?"

"You haven't even been married for a day, and you're giving me marital advice?"

The joke lightens the mood slightly, but she sees in Quinn's eyes that she knows Santana is right. That Rachel should know, should have probably known for a while now, but Quinn's got a lot going on so Santana goes with the subject change.

Even though the conversation does shift to her own problems. "Should I stay married to Brittany?"

"You wanna spend the rest of your life with her?" Quinn asks simply.

Santana nods. "Then why not?" Quinn asks. "You guys never do anything right, but it works. You two have the most stable relationship out of anyone I know and I have no idea why cause you're both insane, but you're in love. Why not have a Vegas wedding that you can't remember? Sounds exactly like you two."

"At least we have the mugs and calendars."

They start laughing again and Santana snatches back Quinn's hand and holds on tight. "I'm here, Q."

"I know."

Brittany comes bouncing back and hands Quinn a soda as she plays with the tab on her own can. "What if the cars trashed?" Brittany asks them. "I mean, we got trashed and messed up so the car probably did too…right?"

Before Santana can say anything, the sounds of tires fast approaching fill their ears. Santana and Quinn squeeze their eyes shut while Brittany turns away, unable to look at the disaster that must be Rachel's dads' car.

When the car pulls up, Brittany mumbles in disbelief, "Oh my God."

Santana peeks an eye open and is shocked and relieved to find the Mercedes sitting in front of them, perfectly intact.

"Looks like our luck is looking up."

**xxxxx**

They're driving down the highway, heading back to their hotel with Santana behind the wheel and Quinn and Brittany searching the car for clues. "Anything?"

"I found a cigar," Quinn tells her and adds, "Gross…"

"Oh, I found a shoe," Brittany says, holding up a clunky, combat boot. "A big shoe."

"That's a boot."

"Let me see," Quinn takes the boot from Brittany and looks it over. "It's a woman's."

"That's weird," Santana mumbles.

"Where's the snake?"

Santana arches an eyebrow and looks at Brittany through the rear view mirror. "What?"

"I found snake skin."

A _used_ condom (Not snake skin) is then tossed on to Quinn's shoulder. "Brittany!" she cries out. "That's a used condom!"

Quinn gets it between her pointer finger and her thumb and tosses it in the back. It hits Brittany in the forehead and, now knowing what it is, she freaks out and throws it back up front.

On to Santana's shoulder.

"What…? I've got jizz on me!"

She starts freaking out too and the car swerves and she jerks it into an abandoned parking lot as she rolls down the window. The car jerks to a stop, Brittany and Quinn are now in a giggle fit as Santana tosses the condom out the window. Her hands slam down on the steering wheel and she turns to face them. "Alright what the _fuck_?"

The laughter dies down immediately and Quinn and Brittany look scared at Santana's outburst, but she can't stop now. She's been fucking calm this whole damn time and she's earned the right to slip her shit. She can handle a lot, but she does not want to be covered in some stranger's juices.

"We gotta get this shit together," she yells. "No more fucking around!"

There's a silent beat before a dull thudding sound fills the car.

"What is that?" Brittany whispers.

"It's coming from the trunk," Quinn says and then her eyes light up. "It's Rachel!"

Quinn fumbles with the door handle before flying out of the car, Santana hot on her heels and Brittany trying to figure out how to put the back seat up. She can't so she climbs over and falls out the door. Santana's having a hard time getting the key into the lock, especially with Quinn screaming in her ear, but when she does it flies open and she gets knocked in the face and lands on her back.

First she thinks that Quinn opened the trunk too quickly and accidentally hit her, but when Quinn falls face down beside her and she hears the scuffle of multiple feet behind her Santana realizes they're being attacked.

She pushes herself up slightly and turns to see some Asian chick in her underwear swinging around a tire iron and advancing slowly on Brittany. "Y-Y-You gonna try f-f-fuck on me too?"

"No," Brittany insists, her arms stretched out in front of her in defense. "Nobody's gonna fuck on you. We're on your side. I hate Godzilla. I hate him too. He destroys cities. Please…this isn't your fault. "I can get you some pants."

Brittany's pleas end up being useless because the Asian chick throws the tire iron in her face before hopping over Brittany's crumpled body and running off towards the strip, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

They all struggle to get up but only manage to lean against the car with their legs stretched out in front of them. They're all panting, groaning, and baffled. "Who the fuck was that?" Santana shouts. "That bitch was mean…"

"I have to tell you something."

Santana and Quinn turn to stare at Brittany who has her head bowed down into her chest and is rocking back and forth. All tell tale signs that Brittany made a huge mistake and has kept it from Santana because she's afraid to get yelled at.

The last time Brittany looked this way she had somehow managed to fill up their house with ducks. Santana's still not sure how she exactly did it, but there were ducks…fucking _everywhere_.

"Last night, on the roof, before we went out," she says quietly, avoiding any and all eye contact. "I slipped something in the Jaeger."

"_What_?"

"I'm so sorry," Brittany rushes on, her voice threatening to break into sobs at any moment. "I fudged up. I didn't drug you I swear. I was told it was Ecstasy by the drug dealer and I just wanted us to have a good time. It was one hit each and I knew you and Rachel wouldn't take it and that Santana wouldn't if it was just us cause then we'd just end up doing it everywhere we went. But then Rachel would complain about that so-"

"But it wasn't Ecstasy, Brittany," Quinn yells, slowly rising to her feet. "It was roofies!"

"The drug dealer seemed like a nice girl," Brittany argues. "A real straight shooter."

Quinn scoffs, "She's a drug dealer!"

"Let's just calm down, Quinn," Santana holds her hand up, but Quinn smacks it away.

"You fucking clam down!" she fires back. "Brittany drugged us. I lost a tooth. I lost _Rachel_."

"Quinn-"

"No," she cuts off Santana and leans down over Brittany. "You are such a fucking moron-"

"And you're language is offensive," Brittany gasps.

"_Fuck_. _You_."

Santana's on her feet and has Quinn pinned to the side of the car, her fists woven through Quinn's shirt and shaking the girl slightly as she brings their faces close together. "Apologize," Santana demands quietly. "And calm your _fucking_ shit. _Now_."

Roughly, she pushes Quinn away and leans over to help Brittany up to her feet. The blonde clings to her tightly, resting her head on Santana's shoulder. So she hugs her close, places a light kiss on top of her head then glares at Quinn.

She takes the hint. "I'm sorry Britt," Quinn says. "It's just-"

"It's OK," Brittany responds, disengaging from Santana and throwing her arms around Quinn's neck. "I know you're worried about Rachel. I am too."

Quinn squeezes back and Santana breathes easy knowing she doesn't have to fuck Quinn up. "Alright, though, seriously. This is a good thing," Santana says as Brittany pulls away from Quinn. "At least not some stranger drugged us for God knows what reason."

"Rachel's still missing," Quinn reminds her. "She's probably six feet in the dirt with some meth head butt fucking her corpse."

"That's highly unlikely," Brittany tells her.

"That's enough, Q," Santana shouts. "Let's get our shit together. Let's go back to the hotel. I'm gonna make a couple calls and…maybe Berry's back there. Maybe she's asleep."

**xxxxx**

The drive back to the hotel is silent and filled with tension.

They turn heads and receive curious glances as they walk through the lobby to the bank of elevators that will take them to the villa. They get to their door and Santana's sifting through her pockets to find the key card when Brittany says, "Wait…what are we gonna do about the tiger? What if he got out?"

"_Fuck_," Santana groans, throwing her head back. "I keep forgetting about the goddam tiger. How the fuck did it get in there?"

"I don't know because I don't _remember_," Quinn deadpans, arching an eyebrow at Brittany.

"_Quinn_," Santana warns, turning back towards the door and unlocking it as quietly as possible.

"It's one of the side effects of roofies. Memory loss," Brittany informs them.

"You are just," Quinn's preparing for a rant, but catches Santana's glare and changes course. "Very informative."

Brittany smiles, "Thank you."

Santana shushes them once more as she slowly pushes the door open enough for her to squeeze through followed by Quinn and Brittany. She stays close to the wall and winces, again, at the damage the room has sustained, but the wince turns into a look of confusion when music starts playing. Softly at first, but swelling into something more loud.

"Did we leave the music on?"

Quinn shrugs as they walk forward into the villa, quietly and carefully. When they round a corner, though, Santana collides with a smaller girl who has short, blonde hair and red framed glasses. They both scream, which causes Quinn and Brittany to join. "Who the hell are you?"

"Who are you?" the smaller girl fires back.

"Quiet! Shut up!"

Santana, Quinn, and Brittany turn towards the living room, where someone is seated at the piano. Not just any someone either…

"Sue Sylvester?"

The tall, short haired, Nationally ranked cheerleading coach turns to face them and rises to her feet. "This is my favorite part coming up right now."

Santana's seen some crazy shit, she's been through some crazy shit (mostly counting last night and today), but she has never seen anything like Sue Sylvester belting out Olivia Newton John's 'Physical.'

_Let's get physical, physical  
I wanna get physical  
Let's get into physical_

By the time she realizes Sue Sylvester had been walking towards them as she jams out to the song, her fist is connecting with Brittany's face and her body slam down to the floor with a hard thud. Santana shoves everyone away and kneels down by Brittany's head. She strokes the bangs off her head and just watches her for a few moments before rounding on Sue Sylvester.

"Why did you do that?"

The small blond appears by Sue's side. "Becky, if you will."

"Coach Sylvester would like to know why is her tiger in your bathroom," she tells them.

"Hold on," Santana says, getting to her feet. "That was completely unnecessary-"

"Explain," Becky insists.

"Look…we were drugged last night. We have no memory of what happened."

"It's true," Quinn back her up. "We got in all kinds of trouble last night. Now we can't find my fiancé. And if you're wanna kill us just…go ahead cause I don't even care anymore."

"_Quinn_."

"Why would you wanna steal Coach Sylvester's tiger?" Becky asks them, growing more and more impatient.

"We tend to do dumb shit when we're fucked up," Santana chuckles nervously.

"This is unacceptable…" Sue mumbles.

"Wait…how did you find us?"

Becky walks over to a nearby table and picks up a clutch with a giant, annoying gold star on it. "One of you left your bag in the tiger's cage. We found it this morning."

"That's Rachel's!" Quinn walks forward and takes it from Becky, hugging it close to her chest. "Did you see her?"

"No," Sue answers. "I was asleep, but, rest assured, if I was awake none of this would have happened."

"OK, look, I know this is asking a lot," Santana starts. "But…is there any way we can go to your house, look around and just see if there's any clues for our friend?"

"Absolutely," Sue says. "How else do you think you're going to give me back my tiger anyway?"

Santana's eyebrows shoot straight up. "I'm sorry…what?"

"We're not gonna put it in our car," Becky tells them as she opens the door for Sue Sylvester. "You brought it here, you bring it back. In about…40 minutes?"

"Do not make me come back for Sue Sylvester Jr."

Both Sue and Becky leave and close the door behind them, leaving Santana and Quinn to just stare at it in disbelief.

"That was Sue Sylvester."

"No shit," Santana rolls her eyes.

A low groan comes from Brittany and Santana immediately runs to her side. She grabs her head in her hands and gently runs her thumb over the soon to be gigantic bruise where Sue hit Brittany. "Babe, are you OK?"

Quinn snaps her fingers in front of Brittany's face and her eyes slowly blink open.

"Baby?"

Brittany is still pretty out of it, but her hand reaches up and rests on Santana's thigh as she giggles, "I petted a snake…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count:**  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter** **7**

"This does seem not fair."

Quinn's complaining. _Again_.

"It's rock, paper, scissors," Santana groans as Brittany pushes five of her roofies into a slab of raw steak. "There's nothing more fair."

"Brittany should do it."

"Brittany got punched in the face by _Sue Sylvester_," Santana yells back. "Come on, Quinn…do it for Berry."

It looks like Quinn wants to argue further, but both of them get a little thrown off when they notice Brittany shaking a generous amount of pepper onto the steak. "Why are you peppering the steak? You don't know if tigers like pepper…"

Brittany looks up at Quinn, still seasoning the meat. "Tigers _love_ pepper," she tells Quinn seriously. "They hate cinnamon."

Quinn blinks and turns to Santana, "Just…do it. You should do it."

"I would," Santana shrugs, trying hard not to smile at Quinn's misfortune. "But you lost. Wouldn't be right…"

"OK," Brittany says as she carefully picks up the steak and holds it out for Quinn. "I jammed five roofies in there. Just go in there and throw it to him."

Quinn sends one more begging look to Santana, who rolls her eyes in response, before taking the steak and walking over to the bathroom.

"Make sure he eats the whole thing," Santana calls out as Quinn grips the doorknob and slides into the bathroom.

Brittany hops up on the table to face Santana and smiles as she starts swinging her legs back and forth. Santana smiles back at her, marveling in Brittany's carefree ways. I mean, she's got a wicked shiner and she's just bouncing where she sits probably thinking about puppies or rainbows or other cute shit while Rachel's _still_ missing and Quinn's feeding a fucking tiger that they have to get back to Sue.

Santana doesn't think she's ever loved her more. So she tells her. "I love you, you know."

Brittany's legs stop swinging and she tilts her head as she takes in Santana's sudden declaration. She gets nervous for some reason and it's weird. Her and Brittany have been together for _so_ long and have been saying 'I love you' for what feels like their entire relationship, so there's no reason to doubt that Brittany won't say it back.

And yet here she is, worrying.

But when Brittany goes blank it means she's _really_ thinking about something. "We don't have to stay married you know," Brittany finally blurts out. "I know we love each other a whole lot and if you're scared that's gonna change or something we can get the anal-ment-"

"Annulment," Santana corrects her softly, her tone full of affection.

"Yeah, that," Brittany goes on. "I'm just gonna be happy as long as we're together. I know it's mean to think this, but I'm _so_ happy Rachel's missing instead of you. I don't know what I'd do-"

Santana's up from her seat and standing between Brittany's legs as soon as the blonde's voice starts to crack. Her palms come up to rest on Brittany's cheeks as she softly shushes her. "It's OK, B," she lets her know. "I can't tell you how many times I thought that today, and I'm gonna apologize to Quinn when we find Berry cause I'd be doing the same thing if it was you."

Brittany's legs wrap themselves around her thighs and she pulls Santana closer as her hands reach up to lay on top of Santana's. "I love you too," she says back before Brittany's leaning forward and pressing their lips together.

They stay that way for a little while until Quinn screams from the bathroom makes them pull back and turn their heads towards the bathroom door. "Shit. I forgot about the tiger again."

Quinn bursts out and slams the door behind her and glares at them. "Really?" she asks, gesturing to their positions. "I'm feeding the tiger and you're making out?"

Brittany shakes her head. "We weren't making out the whole time, Quinn. We were just saying how happy we were that Rachel's-"

"Everything go OK in there?" Santana cuts Brittany off loudly as she steps back a little but keeps an arm around Brittany's shoulders.

"_Great_, I just fed a fucking tiger," Quinn bites back. "What do we now?"

Santana shrugs, "We wait."

**xxxxx**

"We're all gonna die," Quinn mumbles. "Just so you know."

She's helping Brittany maneuver the baggage cart that they're using to get the tiger downstairs and into the car. Santana shuts the door behind them before following them down the hall towards the elevator, motioning for Brittany to fix the sheet not covering the tiger's mouth.

Surprisingly, they get the tiger down to the car and loaded without anything more than a few curious glances in their direction, but they look like shit. Brittany's eye just keeps getting worse, Quinn never really wiped off all the dried blood around her mouth from when her tooth was pulled out, and Santana's lip is still busted open.

"When's the next Haley's comet?"

Santana and Quinn turn their heads towards Brittany. They'd been driving in silence till just now and Santana's having a hard enough time concentrating on the road so Quinn attempts to answer. "I don't think it's for, like, another…60 years or something."

"It's not tonight?"

"No."

"But you don't know for sure?" Quinn shakes her head cause, honestly, she doesn't know for sure, but Brittany just keeps talking regardless. "My cousin Marcus saw one and he said it blew his mind. I wanna make sure I never, ever miss out on a Haley's comet. So…if you guys know if there's gonna be one-"

A loud growl interrupts Brittany and the car erupts in screams. Santana jerks the car to the side of the road and yelps when the now very much awake tiger swipes at her, leaving scratch marks on her neck. "Shit," she hissed as she puts the car in park and runs out, tugging Brittany behind her followed by Quinn then slamming the door shut.

Cars continue to zoom by them as they watch in horror as the tiger begins to rip apart the seats and break windows and just basically fucks the car up. Her hand comes up to rub her neck where the tiger got her and she pulls back her hand now covered in red.

"Santana?"

Brittany's staring at her with wide, scared eyes and Santana wipes the blood away on her pants as she stares back at Brittany. "I'm fine, baby," she says calmly, surely. "It's just a scratch…right Q?"

Quinn walks up and gently pulls at the collar of her shirt to get a better look. "Totally," Quinn agrees.

"I'm fine," Santana tells Brittany again, reaching out a grabbing her hand. "It's OK…we'll figure out another way to get the tiger back to Sue."

They're so close to Sue's and can't figure out what else to do but push the car and Brittany volunteers to steer, saying it's her turn since Quinn fed it and Santana's hurt, but she starts complaining once they get to the gate. The tiger is getting pretty close to the door though, but they're finally there and they push the car up to the door and walk up to ring the bell.

Becky answers almost immediately. "You're late."

"Whatever," Santana shrugs. "We had to push it the last mile."

Hesitantly, Becky opens the door wider. "Come on in. Coach has something to show you."

They follow Becky towards the living room, or what Santana imagines is the living room due to the couch and giant TV. It's hard to tell since they're, basically, just maneuvering themselves through endless amounts of trophies.

Becky gestures for them to sit and Sue walks in (cradling a smaller trophy in her arms and stroking it as if it were a cat or a dog) moments after and plops down between Santana and Brittany. "When we got back we took a look at the security cameras."

"Great, thank you," Santana tells her as Becky queues up the video.

The screen comes up and there they are, The Unholy Trinity and Rachel stumbling through Sue Sylvester's lawn. "Oh my God," Quinn sighs. "There she is. There's Rachel."

"I told you she was fine," Santana comments, but she can't stop the smile from spreading across her face. "This is good."

"Why don't we stop all the meaningless chatter and pay attention," Sue cuts in, eyes still glued to the screen. "I don't have all night."

Santana coughs, "Um…yeah…of course. Of course."

The screen changes in front of them, now showing Sue's pool as they stumble up to it. Brittany's actually pushing ahead on the screen, climbing up some rocks that line that side of the pool. "That's me. I'm on TV," Brittany smiles. "I've never been on TV before."

Brittany's still chuckling, but everyone else quiets down as they watch her on screen. _Somehow_, she manages to start peeing in the pool without taking her pants off or squatting or anything. It's super confusing but Sue Sylvester is _not_ amused. "Really?" she chastises. "Really, B?"

Sue is shooting daggers at Brittany who is squirming in her seat, shifting her gaze from Santana to Quinn and silently asking them what to do. Santana nods her towards the door and Brittany bobs her head once. "Maybe, um," she stumbles. "Should I wait outside?"

"I think that's a good idea," Sue answers right away.

"OK," Brittany says as she stands up and works her way out of the room through the trophies.

"Don't touch anything," Becky warns when Brittany walks past her and out the room.

Uneasiness now lingers in the air, but thankfully the screen changes and it shows them leading the tiger to the police car.

"Just out of curiosity," Sue begins. "Where did you get that cop car from?"

"We, uh," Quinn stammers. "We stole it…from these…dumb ass cops."

A few seconds pass before Sue's face breaks out into a satisfied smile. "Outstanding."

Santana and Quinn chuckle nervously as they watch themselves loading the tiger into the back seat before the screen goes blank. "That's all we got," Becky tells them.

"This was…hugely helpful," Quinn says. "_Really_. Cause now we know that Rachel was with us at 3:30 totally alive."

"Thanks again, Coach Sylvester," Santana chimes in. "And…we are _so_ sorry we stole your tiger."

"Don't worry about it," Sue responds. "We all do some dumb shit when we're fucked up.

"Now get the hell out of my house."

**xxxxx**

"You know," Quinn starts as she drives the mangled car. "Everyone says that Sue Sylvester is a cold hearted bitch, but…I think she's kind of a sweetheart."

"I think she's mean," Brittany pouts from the back.

Ignoring Quinn, Santana decides to bring up something that she has been dreading. "Alright," she begins. "I didn't want to do this but…I think it's time we call Kurt."

"_Finally_ you say something that makes sense."

"We don't have much of a choice," Santana shrugs. "And, who knows, maybe he's heard from Rachel."

"That's what I've been saying this whole time."

"We just need to be completely honest and tell him everything."

Quinn holds up a finger as she stops at a light. "Well…what are we gonna do about Mr. and Mr. Berry's car?"

"Relax, Q," she says. "It's just the inside. I know someone in LA who's great with interiors-"

Santana's cut off when an SUV plows into her door and drives them into a pole holding up a neon naked lady sign. They're all screaming and then start freaking out when the sign falls over and slices through the roof of the car, just missing Brittany in the back seat.

The SUV backs up and they're trying to calm down and get out of the car when Santana gets a glimpse of the driver. "Shit."

It's the skinny Asian from the chapel, getting out and walking around to hold open the door for the half naked Asian chick from the trunk of the car. She's fully clothed now, decked out in Goth wear and still sporting the clunky, combat boots they found in the car. "That's the girl from the trunk," Brittany whispers, her voice trembling in fear.

She glares at each one of them before finally speaking. "G-G-Get out of the car. P-P-Please."

Skinny Asian comes to stand next to her and Quinn gasps, "That's the guy that shot Puck."

Asian chick nods her head at Mike and another goon behind them and then Santana, Quinn, and Brittany are be dragged out of the car.

They get lined up against the car as she walks in front of them and tells them, "I w-w-want my p-p-purse back, b-b-bitches."

Santana's eyes flicker to her hand where she's holding a bag identical to Brittany's. The blonde sees it to cause, in spite of her fear, she yells back, "That's not a purse that's a satchel."

"It's a p-p-purse, K? T-T-Tina Cohen-Chang says so," she argues. "And you steal f-f-from wrong girl."

"You know…we don't remember _anything_ that happened last night," Quinn shouts. "So help us out a little here."

"T-T-Tell them, Mike?" Tina prompts.

"Apparently," skinny Asian tells them. "You met at a craps table late last night. The ditzy blonde was on a real heater and Tina played her hot streak. She ended up winning just under eighty grand."

"Holy shit," Santana comments. "Well…that's good."

"Tina put the chips in her purse," Mike goes on. "And then you three took off with it."

"That doesn't sound like us," Quinn laughs nervously.

"M-M-Mine had eighty thousand d-d-dollar inside," Tina speaks through her teeth and clutches the bag before throwing it to the ground and stomping her giant boots all over it. "This one? N-N-Nothing."

"Hey there are Skittles in there!" Brittany shouts, lunging forward and trying to stop Tina. Mike grabs a hold of her and shoves her back into Santana who holds on tight.

"Now look, this was _obviously_ a very simple misunderstanding," Quinn says, holding up her hands in a peaceful manner. "Brittany picked up the wrong purse. No big deal."

"W-W-Why if it 'no big deal' d-d-did this one," Tina points at Santana. "S-S-Start screaming like crazy and throw m-m-me in t-t-trunk?"

"Me?"

"Yeah," Mike points at Santana too. "You said she was your lucky charm and you wanted to take her home with you."

Santana starts laughing cause that's super ridiculous and Quinn and Brittany join in as well as Tina, but she's just mocking them and cuts herself off and scowl. "F-F-Fuck you," she says. "I-I-If you want to see your f-f-friend again, you get me m-m-my eighty g-g-grand."

"What?"

"_You_ have Rachel?" Quinn shouts, fists clenching at her sides and stepping forward.

One of the other goons pounds his fist against the SUV and the back seat window rolls down just enough to show a head covered with a black hood and thrashing around. Quinn starts to rush at the car, followed by Santana, but they're held back and the window is rolled up again.

Quinn keeps trying until she's eventually shoved to the ground. Santana helps her up and holds her back as she screams, "What do you want?"

"N-N-Not so tough now," Tina laughs.

"Look, we're very sorry, but this is an easy fix," Santana apologizes hastily before turning to Brittany. "Brittany, where's your purse?"

"I don't know-"

"No," Santana cuts in. "It's in the hotel room, right?"

"We can get it," Quinn nods. "We could even write you a check right now."

"N-N-No check," Tine shakes her head. "C-C-Cash only."

"That's my fiancé in there," Quinn growls.

Tina mimes a yawn and starts walking back to the SUV. "B-B-Boring," she says. "Take n-n-nap now."

Mike helps her in the car and then settles himself behind the driver's seat, ignoring their yells and protests. He starts the car and Quinn is shouting to Rachel that she's there and that they're gonna get her back as the car backs away from them.

She holds on to the bumper of the car and lets go when it jerks to a stop and moves forward. She scoffs, "Run me over."

The car lurches forward again, knocking Quinn in the hip and she stumbles back into Santana. It pulls up so that they're face to face with the back seat window and Tina lowers it just enough so you can see her face.

"B-B-Bring money to b-b-big rock in Mohabbai desert at d-d-dawn."

The car drives away, Brittany comes up and wraps herself around Santana, and Quinn drops down to her knees, screaming into the Vegas night air.

**xxxxx**

When they get back to the room, Santana doesn't even shut the door behind her. They all start digging through shit, starting with the living room and closets before moving on to the bedrooms and finally reconvening in the living room again.

All three of them are empty handed.

"I looked for it this morning before we left," Brittany says as she starts flipping couch cushions over. "I'm telling you it's not anywhere."

"Fuck," Santana groans, racking her mind for something they could do since they're probably not going to find the bag. "Quinn, how much you got in the bank?"

"Maybe…ten grand," Quinn shrugs. "But it's for the honey moon…"

Quinn trails off as she watches Brittany extract a piece of pizza from the couch and take a bite. "Eww, Brittany…did you just eat sofa pizza?"

The blonde nods as she takes another bite.

Santana pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "What are we gonna do? We are so _fucked_."

"Hey, look what I found," Brittany says. Quinn perks up, thinking Brittany found the bag, but she holds up her card counting book and smiles.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count:** 27,410 ish, completed.  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter 8**

A few hours later, and eighty two thousand four hundred dollars richer, they're driving towards the desert under a light, purple sky as the sun begins to rise.

"I don't fucking believe it," Santana laughs as Quinn finishes counting the money. "Britt, baby…you were amazing. I _love_ you."

"Love you too, babe," Brittany smiles back in the rear view.

"We should come back next week, take the whole city down," Santana jokes. "The Unholy Trinity dominates once more."

Brittany claps. "I'm free next week."

"_Or_," Quinn cuts in. "We can just focus on getting Rachel back right now."

"Oh…you know what, next week's no good for me," Brittany frowns. "Zac Efron's new movie is premiering. Any week after that is totally fine."

"I think it's safe to say our luck is _officially_ turned around," Santana announces happily. "The fucking Unholy Trinity is back, baby. We are fucking _back_."

"We're back!" Quinn yells out, turning around to high five Brittany and looking the happiest Santana has seen her all day.

They both go back and forth, shouting out 'We're back' and singing and laughing until Brittany breaks out into song, silencing their laughter and forcing them to look questioningly at each other.

_And we're the three best friends that anybody could have  
We're the three best friends that anyone can have  
We're the three best friends that anyone can have  
And we'll never ever ever ever ever leave each other_

She repeats the song over and over again and Santana nudges Quinn and they sing along for a bit before they're out in the desert and looking for their turn off. Santana pulls up across from the SUV and kills the engine. "Now what?"

"Give them the signal," Brittany nudges her.

"What signal?"

"Flash your lights. Let them know it's on."

"What's on?"

"The deal."

"Of course it's on," Santana says. "We just drove thirty miles into the desert. He knows it's on."

"Just do something!" Quinn shouts.

Santana groans as she reaches for the lights. "Fine."

The lights flash once and Tina and Mike exit from the SUV and walk forward. Santana rolls her eyes as the three of them exit their car and walk up to meet them. "Alright, we got the money," Santana tells them. "Eighty grand. Cash."

"Th-Th-Throw it over," Tina orders. "Then I give you g-g-girl. If you d-d-don't Mike shoots her, then all y-y-you mother fuckers, and then we t-t-take the money. You're ch-ch-choice bitches."

Santana motions for Quinn to toss Tina and Mike the bag, so she throws it over and Mike catches it. He unzips it and begins digging around and counting before giving Tina the OK. "L-L-Let him g-g-go."

The car door opens and Santana can see one of Tina's goons fighting a little with Rachel before yanking the bag off her head. They come around the corner, and he pushes…_not_ Rachel forward. The person that Tina has in her custody is still gagged, a little taller than Rachel, bigger, and black.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Santana asks, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Who the hell is this?"

"That is not Rachel," Quinn shouts.

"W-W-What?" Tina asks back. "That's y-y-you friend."

"No, Tina," Quinn argues back. "That's not my fiancé."

"Yeah," Brittany chimes in. "Rachel's a white."

The girl standing in front of them is being untied before the goon rips the tape off her mouth and she yelps in pain. "Aw hell to the nah," she looks back at Tina. "I told you that you had the wrong girl, little girl."

Tina shrugs and snaps her finger for her henchman to get back in the car. "Damn, Brittany," not Rachel rounds on the blonde as soon as she's set free. "What the fuck you got me into?"

Santana's eyes go wide. "Wait…Brittany you know her?"

"Yeah, she sold me the bad drugs," she smiles in recognition. "How you doing?"

"I didn't sell you any fucking bad drugs."

"Wait," Quinn steps in. "She sold you the roofalin?"

"Roofalin?" not Rachel echoes. "What?"

"Who gives a shit?" Santana screams. "Who are you? Where is Rachel?"

"I'm Mercedes," she tells them. "And I don't know who the fuck Rachel is."

"Hey Tina," Santana yells out to the girl about to climb into the SUV. "You gave us the wrong person."

"N-N-Not my p-p-problem."

"Fuck that shit," she fires back. "You give us our eighty grand back and take her with you."

"I am not going back with her," Mercedes shakes her head and crosses her arms, decided.

Tina is just laughing. "Oh y-y-yeah I'll just take her b-b-back. Right after you b-b-blow me. S-S-So long b-b-bitches."

Once Tina's in the car it pulls away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Quinn leans back against the car and buries her face in her hands as her body begins to shake and her loud sobs fill the empty desert.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have Rachel back, they should be getting their shit together and heading back to LA for the wedding. All the work, everything they did the previous day, was for fucking nothing. They were back at square one and Santana can't stay calm anymore.

"_God damn it_!" she cries out.

"Gosh darn it," Brittany parrots, but not as loudly as Santana and not nearly filled with as much rage.

Normally she'd think it was cute, but not in this hopeless moment. "_Shit_!"

"Shoot!"

Her feet kick at the rocks bellow. It doesn't really help ease her anger, just surrounds them in more dust as the moment she's been dreading fast approaches.

It's finally time to call Kurt.

**xxxxx**

"Can I get a lift back to town?"

Santana takes a few steps away from the car after glaring at Mercedes for asking for a ride back while Quinn and Brittany look back at her, numb and stunned. She can't deal with this right now cause Kurt just picked up and his voice is eerily low and he flat out tells her that everyone's freaking out.

"I got a question for you," Quinn looks at Mercedes. "How did you wind up in Tina's car?"

"That crazy ass bitch kidnapped me yesterday," Mercedes replies.

"OK, but _why_?" Quinn presses on. "Why you?"

"She thought I was with you guys," Mercedes tells them. "Cause we were all hangin at the Bellagio."

"What?"

Brittany blinks. "We were at the Bellagio?"

"Yeah," Mercedes nods. "We were shootin craps, don't you remember?"

"_No_. No, we _don't_ remember," Quinn spits back. "Cause some fucking bitch drug dealer sold her roofalin and told her it was Ecstasy."

"Roofalin," Mercedes repeats. "There you go with that word. Roofalin. _Roofalin_. What the hell is a roofalin?"

"Wow," Quinn says back, shocked. "You are the world's _shittiest_ drug dealer. Roofalin, for your information, is the 'date rape' drug. You sold Brittany _roofies_."

Mercedes frowns. "Aww shit I musta mixed up the bags. My fault, Brittany."

Brittany gives a kind of half shrug from and Quinn shakes her head in disbelief. "What_ever_."

"It's funny," Mercedes chuckles. "Cause just the other day me and my friend were wonderin why they even call them roofies. You know what I'm talkin about?"

"No. Don't know what you're talking about."

"Why not floories, right?" Mercedes continues on. "Cause when you take em, you're more likely to end up on the floor then the roof. What about groundies? That's a good, new name for em."

"How bout rapies?" Brittany offers.

"Wait," Quinn holds a hand up as a thought begins forming in her mind. "What did you _just_ say?"

"Rapies."

"Not you," Quinn shakes her head. "Mercedes. What did you say before?"

"I said groundies."

"No, _before_ that," Quinn presses. "You said, 'you're more likely to wind up on a floor…than…

"_Santana_!"

She turns her head slightly at her name, but keeps talking to Kurt. She already told him they lost Rachel and she's about to explain exactly how that happened, all the while throwing in apologies for ruining today.

But she doesn't get the chance.

Quinn slams into her from behind and the phone flies out of her hand as she gets a mouthful of dirt. She's coughing and can't speak or yell like she wants to and Quinn pushes her further into the ground as she scrambles over Santana's body to grab the phone.

"Kurt, it's Quinn."

"Quinn," Kurt breathes out. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

"Uh…nothing…d-don't listen to Santana…she's, um…completely out of her mind. Probably still drunk," Quinn stammers as Santana tries to push herself up but is still too winded. "Rachel is…uh…paying the bill. We just had a delicious brunch and…we're in a big hurry to get back so…we gotta get going. OK, bye."

"Wait…Quinn-"

But Quinn flips the phone shut and turns back to Santana. She grabs Santana's shirt to try and help her up, but Santana's pissed and still coughing up dirt and shoves Quinn away. "What the fuck, Quinn?"

Quinn should be quivering in fear cause Santana's pretty much ready to flip her fucking shit on her friend, but Quinn has a huge smile on her face. "I know where Rachel is."

**xxxxx**

"I don't know, S. It just hit me," Quinn says as they zoom back to their hotel. "Remember when we saw Rachel's mattress impaled on that statue?"

Santana shrugs, "Yeah. It's because we threw it out the window."

" No. Impossible," Quinn shoots back. "You can't open windows in Vegas hotels."

"Well then how did it get…?" Santana trails off as her mind wanders.

She's not thinking about last night or the day from hell they had just been though. No, Santana, following Quinn's train of thought, starts thinking about summer camp.

"Oh…my…God!"

Quinn starts laughing with Santana, but Brittany's in the back with Mercedes looking confused. "Wait. What's going on?"

"Rachel was trying to signal someone," Quinn says. "Mercedes made me realize it."

"So…Rachel is…where?"

"She's on the roof, Britt," Santana tells her. "We must have taken her up there on her mattress as a prank so she'd wake up on the roof. Like that one time in summer camp when we moved that one girl's sleeping bag out into the jetty in the lake."

"That was hilarious." Quinn's laughter dies down. "Not so funny…now though cause we forgot where we put her."

"Ya'll are fucking stupid," Mercedes says as she leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. "You know that?"

"Holy shit…" Santana says, ignoring Mercedes and smiling hopefully at Quinn. "Do you think she's still up there?"

Quinn shrugs as she steps harder on to the gas. "Only one way to find out."

**xxxxx**

Santana's pretty sure they've knocked over several people once they get to the hotel and start running towards the elevators. They push their way into one and head straight up to the roof, where it all started. Quinn's out the door first, running around and calling out Rachel's name while Santana looks on the other side and Brittany takes the time to move the cinderblock in front of the door so they don't get locked out.

"She's over here!"

Looking over, Santana sees Quinn and Brittany running towards a small, huddled brunette and she throws her head back on her shoulders and thanks whatever God is out there that Rachel is alive and not missing any more. She jogs over to where Quinn is peppering Rachel's face with thankful kisses before pulling the tiny brunette to her feet.

Rachel's shaky, with good reason, and her skin is much, _much_ darker than the last time Santana saw her. "You're OK, baby," Quinn keeps mumbling over and over. "You're OK."

"What the _fuck_ is going on?"

Rachel, unsurprisingly, is not as happy to see them as they are to see her.

"We really should get going," Brittany reminds them, even though she's smiling and bouncing where she stands. "We can explain everything on the way. There's a _lot_."

"Hey, Berry," Santana waves, approaching Rachel cautiously. "You OK?"

"No," Rachel answers right away. "Not OK."

Santana winces. "Well…you look good. Got some color. I'm jealous."

Rachel's expression hasn't changed, she's just shifting her gaze blankly between the three of them before stopping at Quinn. "We're getting married today."

"Yes," Santana chimes in. "Berry that's why you need to focus and do everything we say cause, frankly, you're wasting a lot of time right now."

After a beat, Rachel screams, "You fucking asshole!"

Now…Santana's been tased today, she's been attacked by a tiger, she got beat up by a half naked Asian chick, she's been knocked down in every way you can be knocked down today so she's pretty shocked that when Rachel launches her entire, small body into Santana it fucking hurts. She's impressed, scared and in pain but Rachel manages to take her down.

They hot the roof with a thud and she's expecting to be pummeled with tiny fists, but Rachel cries out in pain and rolls on to her back. "Oh! Oh, my skin burns," Rachel whimpers as Quinn and Brittany lean over to try to help her. "Don't touch me!"

They back off, Brittany moving to help Santana up as Rachel tries to breathe through the burning pain. "Don't touch me," she repeats. "Just get me home. I just want to go home."


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** The Unholy Trinity Hangover  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany, Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Basically The Hangover Brittana/Faberry/Unholy Trinity style. Santana and Brittany take Quinn and Rachel to Vegas for a bachelorette party, wackiness ensues. Glee AU fic.  
**Word Count:** 27,410 ish, completed.  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**Chapter 9**

"You cannot be serious!" Quinn shouts into her phone. "What about the one after that?" She waits a second, holding the door open so Santana can wheel Rachel out of the hotel. "You're not serious." She hangs up the phone and bangs it against her forehead. "Fuck. _Every_ flight to LA is booked."

"What about into Burbank?"

"Totally sold out," Quinn tells Santana.

"Fuck," Santana spits out. "We can't drive there. The wedding's in three and a half hours. Britt, where's the fucking car?"

They walk up to where Brittany is standing with their baggage and Santana parks Rachel next to the blonde. "The guy said its coming."

"You know what," Quinn starts off surely. "We can drive there. We can make it."

"Oh, good…I caught ya'll!"

Santana, Brittany, and Quinn turned at the familiar drawl and Rachel, still stiff, tried to turn but hissed in pain before Brittany unlocked the chair and spun her to face April Rhodes.

"April," Quinn greets quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see you off," April shrugs. "Make sure you found Rachel." She waves down at Rachel. "Hey."

The car pulls up and Santana starts grabbing bags. "Well, thanks or whatever," she mutters. "But we gotta get the fuck out of this city as soon as possible though."

"Tell Carlos I said 'bye,'" Brittany says as she grabs Rachel and wheels her over to the car.

As Brittany helps Rachel into the car, she asks quietly, "Is Quinn missing a tooth?"

Brittany gets Rachel buckled in, laughing as she answers, "Yeah." She shuts the door and goes to help Santana.

Quinn remains standing with April, knowing that they have to leave but still too curious about what really happened between them last night. She's not sure what to say though, or where to begin, so Santana helps move things along as nicely as she can. "You got one second, Q, and then we're fucking leaving you."

"Um," Quinn shakes her head, knowing she needs to say something. "Thanks again for helping out last night…with the blackjack stuff."

"Oh, don't worry about it," April waves her hand at Quinn before leaning in and lowering her voice. "I really just wanted to make sure you were OK. I know you don't remember our talk-"

Quinn looks over her shoulder, making sure that Rachel can't hear and that Santana and Brittany are occupied before whispering back, "It was about my baby, wasn't it?"

April nods. "You had been thinking about telling Rachel and were feeling guilty. The only reason I brought up Tyler was because you were saying that you were such a good dentist that you could pull out your own tooth-"

"_I_ pulled out my own tooth?"

"Yeah," April says. "You wanted to do more but then Brittany thought you'd look like an adult baby, but with boobs. Then I mentioned I had a baby and that's when you got upset. I guess my name and me having a baby was too much for you."

Quinn's brow furrows. "What does 'April' have anything to do with it?"

"Not _my_ name," April rolls her eyes. "My stripper name:

"Shelby."

Quinn's hand comes up to her chest and she sucks in a big gulp of air and almost chokes on it. "Yeah," April responds. "That's the exact look you got last night before we talked."

"Did I tell Rachel last night?" she asks.

April shakes her head. "It's another reason I wanted to say bye. To…remind you, since you can't remember, that you _should_ tell her. You kept telling me you wanted to."

Quinn sighs. "When am I going to have the time? We're driving back to LA…we're gonna be late for the wedding already-"

"_Make_ time," April tells her.

"Quinn!"

"Quinn!" Brittany echoes Santana, both of them leaning over the windshield and pounding their palms against the glass.

"Come on!"

"Come on!" Brittany repeats once more and Santana smiles over at her as they settle in the front seats.

Quinn starts walking backwards towards the car. "Thanks, April," she smiles. "It was really nice meeting you."

April returns the smile and waves. "Come visit sometime."

Santana pulls up halfway to meet Quinn and she falls into the back seat, trying to be careful not to hurt Rachel and further. "Let's go!"

**xxxxx**

When they pull up to the wedding twenty minutes late and still looking like they've been to hell and back, Kurt faints on the spot. They walk over his unconscious body towards the rooms set aside for them to get ready in and instruct his boyfriend, Blaine, to wake him up and then tell the guests to be patient for another fifteen minutes or so.

It's true, girls take forever to get ready, but the four of them know they're in a hurry and work pretty quickly.

Before, it was supposed to be Santana helping Quinn in one room with Brittany helped Rachel in the other, but Quinn insisted on getting ready with Rachel cause she wanted to talk.

"I assure you that whatever it is that you want to say to me can wait until after we're married, Quinn."

Rachel didn't want to talk, and Quinn wanted to maybe build up to this and try to reveal her secret more gently but her fiancé was right. They didn't have any time.

"No," Quinn insists. "I have to tell you before we get married."

"Tell me on the go then," Rachel says as she walks to the door to where Santana and Brittany had been waiting. "I won't let our family and close friends wait any longer."

"Rachel!" Quinn calls out, pushing past Santana and Brittany before shouting down the hall to Rachel, "I had a baby!"

The shorter woman stops, but doesn't turn. Brittany's mouth drops open and Santana takes her hand and squeezes it, a silent way of telling her that they'll talk about this later and to stay quiet. Quinn takes a couple steps forward and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"A long, _long_ time ago. Before I even met Santana and Brittany, and I gave her up," Quinn tells her, and Santana can hear the tears threatening to fall in her voice. "My parents moved us away after I gave her to her new family and I was conditioned to never talk about it. There were times when I really thought that it was all some kind of nightmare or something…"

Rachel turns and it throws Quinn off for a second, but she quickly picks back up as she walks right up to Rachel. "I should have told you sooner," she admits. "I _know_ that and I'm sorry for that and I wish we had more time to talk about this, but I had to tell you before we got married. You have a right to know what you're marrying into."

The silence is deafening and Santana's pretty sure that she's holding her breath, which means Brittany is too so she exhales as silently as she knows how and continues to watch Quinn and Rachel watching each other. She has to suppress the smile that threatens to spread across her face when Rachel reaches forward and takes Quinn's hand.

"Does this change how you feel about me in any way?"

"No," Quinn answers immediately. "I love you and I've never kept anything else from you."

"I love you, too," Rachel replies. "And I understand this a very important and defining moment in our epic romance, but we are extremely late and we still look awful and I just want to marry you and start our life together…OK?"

Forgetting that Rachel is, more or less, covered in sunburn, Quinn yanks their bodies together and dips her head down to kiss Rachel, hard. Rachel kisses back for as long as she can stand before jumping back and hissing in pain. Quinn turns back to Santana and Brittany, swinging their linked hands back and forth and smiling.

"Let's go get married."

**xxxxx**

The wedding was beautiful and full of grandeur and drama and exactly the kinds of things you would imagine would be in a wedding planned by Rachel Berry and her fabulous, best friend, wedding planner Kurt Hummel.

Of course, after the ceremony and before pictures he ordered the four of them to get back to their rooms and actually spend time getting ready. He pretty much unleashed a hissy shit fit the whole time and particularly focused on Quinn and her now ruined smile.

"Keep your mouth shut," he instructed. "The _whole_ night."

Everything else goes pretty well and they all dance and party and have their one glass of champagne for the toast that Quinn insists on pouring for them herself from a bottle that she personally opened.

When the night is winding down Santana walks up to a gazebo behind the reception and finds Brittany looking out at the sky and wrapping her arms around her body. Santana walks up and wraps her arms around Brittany's waist, pulling her into the warmth of her own body. Brittany's hands shift to rest on top of Santana's as she snuggles back into her. "Hi."

"Hey," she whispers back. "Cold?"

Brittany hums back, "Not anymore."

They stay that way for a little while, swaying back and forth to the sound of music that the night air is blowing their way. Santana closes her eyes, breathing in the moment and enjoying the fact that they managed to make it out of Las Vegas alive even though there were a couple of points where she honestly thought they wouldn't.

Not all four of them anyway.

Of course, thinking about Vegas makes her think about her marriage. She couldn't help but notice the way Brittany smiled the whole time and wonders if it's something she's really wanted and gave up for Santana. Then she thinks about what Quinn said, how this is kind of typical behavior for them.

If any two people would get drugged and then married and live happily ever after, it's be Santana and Brittany. No contest.

But did Brittany want more now? Cause she's pretty sure that she would annul this wedding and then do the whole proposal thing and just make everything right.

"I can hear your brain thinking."

Santana opens her eyes and smiles. "Can you read my mind too?"

"No," Brittany says. "But I know you're thinking about being married and stuff."

"I just…" Santana stops, pulling Brittany closer (if it's possible) and brushing her lips along her neck. "I want to make sure that whatever we decide we're _both_ happy about."

Brittany shrugs. "I'm pretty happy."

"I'm pretty happy too," Santana agrees after a second. "So…we're married."

"Yep."

"Do you want, like…a party or something?"

"We have parties all the time," Brittany says. "And we go out and stuff. The next time we do that we can just do it for the wedding."

"You realize how crazy this is, right?"

"You're brain is thinking again. _Stop_," Brittany chuckles. "Just try to focus on the fact that you can throw this in Rachel's face when she makes you angry and all the hot sex we're going to have cause I can't remember if we constipated our marriage or not."

"_Consummate_," Santana corrects softly as she spins Brittany in her arms and pins her against the rail behind them. "You mean consummate the marriage."

"Whatever," Brittany says as her arms wind around Santana's neck. "That means sex, right?"

"Yes, it means sex."

"Good."

Brittany pulls Santana closer and kisses her, softly at first before the kiss turns hungry and desperate. Santana's hands spread out across Brittany's back, sliding down and pulling their hips closer as Brittany's tongue traces her bottom lip. Santana tilts her head and moans into Brittany's mouth as her tongue slides over her own and her hands weave themselves through dark locks, tugging slightly.

Santana spreads Brittany's legs a little wider and fits her thigh in between and presses forward and Brittany voices her reaction but then suddenly pulls away, a worried expression covering her now flushed face. "What's wrong, babe?"

"I read in a magazine somewhere that when you get married the sex goes bad," Brittany tells her in a low voice, like if saying it too loud makes it true. "And that marriages end in divorce, like…75% of the time-"

"Hey," Santana cuts her off, bringing her hand up to rest on Brittany's cheek. "We don't have to worry about that. Trust me, OK?"

Brittany nods. "I do."

"Good cause I kinda like the idea of calling you 'wife.'" Santana leans back in and plans on continuing what she started, but doesn't get very far.

"I really don't understand you two and the need to be intimate _everywhere_ you go."

Santana pulls back and groans. Brittany gives her a 'be nice' look before shifting Santana, turning her and pulling her close into her side as Quinn and Rachel walk up. "We're newlyweds, Berry," Santana smirks. "We're supposed to be having sex all the time."

"What?" Quinn and Rachel gasp at the same time, with Quinn adding, "So…you're sticking with the wedding that neither of you are able to remember?"

"You got married before us?" Rachel asks, jaw dropped down and eyes wide.

"Yep, sure did."

"Well, congratulations," Quinn tells them genuinely, nudging Rachel as she prepares to say something else. "Anyway…we're here cause there have been a couple of new developments."

"Oh shit what…"

"Since I was resting up on the car ride home and disoriented from my dehydration and prolonged exposure to the sun-"

"_Berry_."

Rachel glares at Santana before revealing a bag she had been holding behind her back the whole time. Brittany's eyes light up and she moves away from Santana to grab it. "My satchel!"

"Check out what's inside," Quinn says.

Brittany frowns in thought and opens the flap, wide enough for her and Santana to peer inside.

"Are you fucking shitting me?"

There's absolutely no way she's looking at what she's looking at. "I'm going to ignore your use of language," Rachel says pointedly to Santana. "And, yes, you are looking at eighty thousand dollars worth of Bellagio chips. That bag and my mattress were the only things you left me with up on the roof."

"Where are my Skittles?"

Santana sighs, but there's still a huge smile on her face, "Baby, I will buy you a year's worth of Skittles with this money."

"We also found this," Quinn says, holding up a digital camera. "There's pictures from last night on there so…if we want to know-"

"Which I don't believe we do," Rachel cuts in. "Considering what you found out when you retraced your steps, I know _I_ don't want to see these pictures."

"Fuck that," Santana says as she snatches the camera from Quinn's grasp. "Look…I say we go through these pictures _once_…_together_…then we delete them all and you two can be all disgusting and married and Britt an I can be all hot and married and go on a long, expensive honeymoon with our mini fortune."

"OK," Brittany agrees. "Don't forget about the Skittles."

Quinn agrees as well. "I'm in."

The three of them look at Rachel who puffs out her cheeks and shrugs half heartedly. "Fine…"

"Alright," she says as Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel gather around her as she turns on the camera and goes to the pictures. "Here we go in three…two…one…"


End file.
